The Hunger Games Trilogy: As Told by Haymitch Abernathy
by Anonymius
Summary: Haymitch Abernathy had lost all hope of another Victor in District 12 until Katniss Everdeen volunteers and Peeta Mellark is chosen to participate in the Hunger Games. He believes that after so many years of failure he has finally found a potential victor. While haunted by his past, Haymitch struggles to make sure that this time a tribute from District 12 gets to come home.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

I was startled when someone woke me. Instinctively, without knowing who it was, only that they were likely a threat, I tried to attack my attacker with the knife I always took with me to bed, but my assailant managed to grab my arm. I tried to struggle, but the pack had restrained me.

"Alright, Mr Abernathy, settle down. Easy."

I recognised the voice, and I knew it wasn't an enemy. Not a friend either, but I knew they wanted no harm to come to me. I calmed down, realising that I wasn't in the arena, and these weren't the career pack come to kill me. I was in my house, and these were a bunch of peacekeepers. They must have broken in because I was unresponsive. People would rather not try to wake me, and wouldn't do so unless they had to. The peacekeepers would only do this once a year, on the same day.

Once they were sure I was calmed down, they kept watch, as I washed my face, got dressed, and took a bottle white liquor with me for breakfast (Or was it lunch?) as I was escorted out. No one seemed to object to me drinking as long as I didn't cause trouble. It's funny. I used to hate drunks, people like my old man, or Raybearta my mentor. Or should I say my so-called mentor. It's funny that I became one myself!

Once out of the house, we walked towards the town.

Well, it was that time of year again! A time of celebration and a chance for glory! A time of death and untold grief!

I was taken to the town centre, where the kids were all gathered, girls and boys separated. Wondering which sorry pair would be chosen, stuck with me as a mentor, the person who was supposed to prepare them, to help them survive, only to die. Effie, the Capitol escort, was making her speech, but I wasn't paying attention. I was thinking back to an earlier time, 25 years ago, a day as bright as today.

I was sitting in the meadow, watching the horizon. It was the day of the Reaping. Only this year it would be worse. For this year happened to be a quarter quell, where they added some horrible twist as a reminder that the rebellion was our fault. This year, twice as many tributes would be going in as. It was bad enough waiting for your name to be called once. But to go through that twice?

"I could do it, you know."

I turned to look at my best friend Mel, who was sitting next to me. I call him that because, even though I didn't have any other friends, if I did, he would be my best.

"Do what?" I asked him, even though I already have a suspicion as to what he's talking about.

"Win the Hunger Games. I mean, I'm fast enough, I can climb really well. I'm good with a weapon, I can kill, I can survive in the-"

I stopped him from continuing.

"Or you would be as dead as any of the others. Anyway you only have a few more years to worry about being selected and then you'll be off scotch free!"

You'd think I was being cruel, telling him that he had a chance of dying in the Hunger Games. No one wants to be told that. Everyone wanted to believe that they have a chance of surviving.

No, I said it because I knew he wasn't talking about being selected.

"Well, what if I didn't wait to see if my name was to come out."

And there it was.

"What do you mean?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was alluding to.

"I could volunteer."

"Don't be stupid."

"Well why not?"

Mel stood up.

"Mitch, aren't you tired of all the kids who are sent every year off to be slaughtered, regardless of age or ability? Wouldn't it be great if we had at least another victor for a change-"

"Who cares?" I shouted at him, "Who cares if a bunch of kids you don't know that well wind up dead?"

Mel, furious, sat down.

"I care."

"I know you do. And if you do wind up volunteering and coming back here in a box and the whole district's grieving over you, don't expect me to be one of the mourners."

"Forget it."

"Fine!" I snapped.

We just remained looking at the horizon in silence. Mind you, I told a lie back there. Of course I was sick of how kids were chosen only to end up dying. Kids you knew at school, or fellow kids of the seam, never being seen again. Kids as young as my little brother, or older kids, with their younger siblings pulling at them, not wanting them to go. Lovers split apart. Friends taken away. Fellow classmates who are there for one moment replaced by an empty chair, or a void where they used to walk. But as much as I hated it, what I feared more, far more than my name being pulled out, would be if someone I cared about being taken. Every year at the choosing ceremony, it's not just my name I dreaded being called out, but Mel's as well, along with my girl, Rachelle. And now this year, I was going to start dreading about my brother's name being called out. And I did not want my best friend to be volunteering for death. We continued to sit there in silence before he spoke.

"We should probably head back soon."

I didn't reply, still mad at him that he was even considering the idea of volunteering.

"Hey."

He pushed me to the ground. I looked up at him, grinning down at me.

"Race you back to the Seam!"

He ran off. I couldn't help but smile.

"Oh that's it, you're so dead!"

Getting up, I ran after him.

Eventually we both made it to the edge of our home, the Seam. We both caught our breath.

"I won," Mel managed to say.

"Nuh uh, I won!" I claimed, even though I knew he did, even if he didn't have a head start.

"Well, see you in the town square," Mel told me.

We shook our own handshake.

"Yeah, see you."

I walked into my house. My little brother, Larie, was all dressed up.

"Well look at you!"

Then I saw the look on his face. I hadn't seen that look in four years, not since our old man had died, that look he had whenever the time drew near that he would be returning home from the Hob.

"I think your tie needs a bit of work."

Bending down, I fiddled with it.

"It's just one name, Larie. One name against thousands. You have less chance of being picked than the-"

I didn't finish that sentence. I was about to say the older kids, but I didn't want him to start worrying about me. I patted him on the shoulders.

"Just promise me one thing. If my name is called out, if, and I'm not saying it will, but if my name is called out, don't volunteer for me, okay? Cos I have a better chance of surviving than you."

Larie nodded. Of course, we'd have equal chance of surviving, but I'll be able to survive longer than him, to be less afraid.

I got ready. Ma came in, telling us it was time to go. I was careful not to look directly at her, putting my hands in my pockets.

"Whatever."

We went to the town square, boys divided from girls, organised by age. Mel and me stood next to each other. I noticed how everyone around us were giving us odd looks, which they always do when people see us together. No one could understand how we were friends, let alone that I was his best friend compared to the others he had. See, Mel was popular at school, at least among the Seam kids. It's hard not to see why, the guy was very likeable. Whereas I – not so much. My interaction with others tended to be rather aggressive. I liked to keep to myself, and for everyone to stay out of my way. Well. Nearly everyone. It also didn't help that I had a reputation for being dangerous. Probably because I had a tendency of getting into fights with other kids. Funnily enough, that's how me and Mel became friends. It was during recess some years back, and I was in a particularly bad mood. Mel had come over, asking me what was wrong. I told him to leave me alone. He wasn't getting the message, telling me that I shouldn't be so mean to everyone. I pushed him for saying that. He pushed me back, which later led to fists being exchanged. By the time a teacher came to break us up we were wrestling on the ground, later sent to the principal's office. We were sitting in silence next to each other, with cuts and bruises, before I spoke.

"Nice punch," I told him.

"You too," He replied.

We looked at each other, before breaking down into laughter.

After that we became friends. Mel told me that whenever I felt like hitting someone, I could hit him. I laughed when he said that to me, telling him that it was no fun when the other wanted to be hit! Even so, we reached an agreement; whenever I felt angry we would fight each other, if he would leave me alone when I told him to. So we became unofficial sparring partners, mostly it was just play fighting, but sometimes, when I was really angry, it got serious. I'd feel guilty, Mel would try to tell me it was alright, I'd find this irritating, tell him to leave me alone, he would, and he would come back after I cooled off. That was the most annoying thing about him, how he was able to keep a promise no matter how many times I broke my end of the bargain (Even though I didn't get into as many fights with others as I used to). There wasn't much of that in the last several years.

There was another reason why people tended to avoid me. It was a few years back when there was an incident. No one knew the whole truth, but that didn't stop rumours spreading. Soon everyone started to move out of my way, or whisper behind my back. Apparently, me being seemingly dangerous is what attracted Rachelle to me, despite everyone telling her to stay away from that criminal Haymitch Abernathy, son of the town drunk. Later, she told me that she eventually saw through what she called my facade, but what she found inside made her love me even more, although I'd deny what she found.

The escort started to read out the name taken out. Ever since we became boyfriend and girlfriend, I could feel my heart racing every time they called out the name of the girl tribute, frightened that it would be Rachelle's name. At least every time before I let out a sigh of relief when it was someone else's name. Now, this year, my heart was going to race again before I had a chance to recover.

The escort read out the name.

"Primrose Everdeen."

I almost fell out of my chair, because that's not what was said 25 years ago. I became aware of my surroundings, that I was no longer a teenager participating in the Hunger Games, but a middle aged, balding, pudgy, grizzled victor. A girl of 12 emerged from the crowd. Her skin, hair and eye colour suggested she was townfolk, but she was seam. Her mom, who was from the town, eloped with a coal miner of the Seam. If anyone had noticed my reaction, they would likely just put it down to me being drunk as opposed to being shocked. It wasn't just that 12 year olds were sure to die in the Hunger Games. Whenever a new pair is chosen, I try not to remember their names. It made it that much easier when they died. I just thought of them as the boy and the girl. Which was going to be a problem with this girl, as I recognised the name Everdeen. Everyone did. Officially just another coal miner, but unofficially, he was the district's poacher, venturing into the woods every day and selling his finds in the Hob, the black market. Of course I say unofficially, because poaching was illegal, attached with the highest penalties. I remember he was caught once, and whipped for everyone to see. He recovered, though, but whereas most people would have probably given up after that he kept on going. When he first started to explore the woods, going through a hole in the fence, I thought he was crazy. The fact that he continued after that incident made me certain that he was insane. Course, he never got caught again. The peacekeepers even became his customers (Although they already were, but even more so afterwards). Mind you it had to be done secretly rather than out in the open despite that. Then came that day. When he was blown up. It was a dark time for the district. Who else were people supposed to get the food and other resources that you could only find in the woods? But it was more than that. Everdeen was a well-respected man in the district. Even loved. However, that void left in the district by his death was soon filled by his daughter. Not the one coming up now, who I would see now and again in the Hob with her little goat in tow, but his older daughter, who had the skin colour, eyes and hair of someone from the seam. Katherine I think her name was.

"Prim!"

And there she was, now running out in front of her sister, trying to protect her, as if she could stop the peacekeepers from taking her, even though it was futile. This tends to happens, when family members will try to save their siblings, older ones would try to shield them, younger ones would try to pull them back, to stop them from going up to the stage. But whatever they did, it was pointless. They were always completely powerless to stop their loved ones from being taken, and there was nothing they could do to save them.

Nothing-

"I volunteer!" She shouted, "I volunteer as tribute!"

There was silence. Then there was confusion. As for me, I was befuddled. Huh. That had never happened before. You'd think it would, that siblings would be more than willing to sacrifice themselves to save those they loved. And yet, for as long as I can remember, this is the first time in my lifetime that anyone has. It disgusted me, that there are those who value their own worthless hides more than that of their younger siblings, who they were supposed to help raise and protect, even at the cost of their own life! Had it been my brother whose name had been called out, I would have volunteered in an instant, just like what this girl had done. Although a part of me couldn't help but wonder. Would I have volunteered? Yes, I would've. I would have done anything to protect my little brother, even kill for him. Which I did.

For this girl to volunteer herself, she must care a great deal for her sister, so much that she would rather die than lose her. The words of a rather morbid song came to mind. She came up to the stage. When Effie asked everyone to give her an applause, everyone had the decency to not do so. Instead something unexpected happened. I don't know who started it, but someone made this gesture at funerals where they press their fingers to their lips and raise them up for everyone to see. I'm sure they did it at her dad's. And now they were doing it for her.

I had often seen this girl at the hob, and what I noticed was how unreadable she was. That is to say, it was impossible to know what she was thinking, as her face always had that same, blank expression devoid of emotion. At first, I wondered if it was because she lacked emotion, until later I realised the reason. It was a mask. I myself wear a mask. When I was young, I wore the mask of young, arrogant guy who didn't take anything seriously. Now I wore the mask of a drunken fool. This girl's mask was one that showed no emotion at all, to hide what she was really thinking and feeling.

For a moment, it looked like her mask was about to crack.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had got out of my seat and walked towards her, as if to congratulate her.

"I like her!" I shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, which I did, "Lot's of..."

I struggled to think of the right word.

"Spunk!"

I turned towards the cameras.

"More than you."

I advanced towards them, my finger pointing at one of them. I was addressing the capitol, but I was also talking to the crowd, to all the men and women who were still alive, who should have taken the place of their younger siblings like this girl had done.

"More than you!"

I really should have paid attention to where I was walking, because next thing I knew I had fallen off the edge of the stage, and the last thing I remember was impacting the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own 'Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

I was staring at the ceiling of what was undoubtedly my compartment on the train. It took me a moment to remember what had happened before. I rubbed my head. I wasn't sure if the pounding headache was from a hangover or from the fall.

Probably both.

Hopefully my making a fool of myself gave the girl the moment she needed to compose herself without anyone paying attention. If we were on the move, then the boy tribute must have already been chosen. I wonder if anyone had bothered to volunteer for him as the girl had for her sister. Somehow, I doubted it. I can only imagine the shock, denial and dread that he felt, as all tributes felt when their names were called out. Mine was worse. Every time, waiting for the name to be called out, afraid that it would be your name, feeling your heart beat furiously against your rib cage, as if it was aware that depending on whose name was called out, pretty soon it wouldn't be beating anymore, before hearing the name called out and it's not yours, feeling that relief, or a mixture of sorrow if you knew the person that was chosen. Now imagine going through that again before you had a chance to recover. Of course, I didn't let anyone know how scared I was. I just treated the whole thing as no big deal. It always annoyed people that I did that, telling me that I wouldn't be so brave if my name was picked. But every choosing ceremony, I would tell myself that if my name was picked, I wouldn't cower or cry like so many tributes. The capitol may take my life, but I would not give them the satisfaction of showing them how scared I was. I would stroll up to the stage, and not show a hint of fear. Besides, any sign of fear would be picked up by any other tributes as a sign of weakness. Then the second male tribute was called out.

"Haymitch Abernathy."

At first I was sure I must have misheard. It was only because I've been thinking so much of it, I was sure of it. But when everyone turned to look at me, I knew I hadn't. For a moment, I thought that I would end up breaking down, even try to run away. No, I thought to myself as I forced myself forward with my hands in my pockets. I would not show fear. Not in front of everyone here, not in front of the district, the capitol, the other tributes, and certainly not in front of my family! I walked up and took the stage, keeping a scowl to hide my real emotions.

"Any volunteers?" The escort asked.

I looked for my brother, to see if I can stop him from volunteering. Instead I noticed Mel, and how his hand was shaking, and I realised what he was doing.

He was going to volunteer.

Don't you dare! I shot him a look. You volunteer and you're dead!

Which was a pretty empty threat considering that if did volunteer he would be dead. I sighed relief when he put his hand down.

I wonder if people would be glad to see me gone. The teachers especially, after all the trouble I caused at school!

I was taken to a room where I was left alone. Soon, everyone I cared about would come to say their goodbyes. I took advantage of this moment alone to take in what had happened. Falling on one of the seats, I had my eyes to the floor as my hands shook and my body rocked back and forth.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

Maybe I could make it. I'm tougher than most of the district here. And I know how to use a weapon. Of course, some would hardly consider a kitchen knife a weapon. But a knife was a knife and a knife was a weapon. But I would also be up against the careers, who tended to win every games. No, I could survive. It's not the first time I went up against someone bigger than me. And I could kill. I have killed. Even though technically it was an accident.

When I was small, I remember being terrified of my old man, who would come home late at night, violent, his breath smelling fowl. Every time he yelled at me, or hit me, I was sure at first it was something I did wrong, but my Ma comforted me, assured me it wasn't.

"He's just had a bad day," She would tell me.

It seemed like he had a bad day every day. There was hardly any day when he wasn't drunk. Come to think of it, I don't think there was any day when he wasn't drunk! Then when my Ma was pregnant, I was worried that he would cause a miscarriage. When my brother was born, he was so tiny, even then. As I held him tightly in my arms, I promised him that I would never let any harm come to him. Whenever he was crying, and my Ma's breast failed to make him stop, I would be there to calm him down, or take him out of the house. Whenever our Ma was hit it would cause him to cry. When that happen I would take him out of the room. He learnt not to cry so much after one incident when my old man got to him before I did, and I had to insult him to draw his attention away from him. That was the day before me and Mel became friends. I remember my brother hugging me, saying sorry. Sorry for only being upset about our Ma being hurt! I did my best to protect him, to keep him out of the way of our old man, to take the blows intended for him, even insulted him whenever he threatened to hit him. I grew to hate him. Really hate him, for the way he spoke to Larie, for the little things he did. I swore to myself. If he ever laid one finger on him, then I would kill him before he laid a single blow. I meant it. I practice with the kitchen knife, imagining the different ways I could kill him. I also found something else. Part of the wall was worn. Every night, when everyone else was fast asleep, I would punch the piece of the wall that was on level with my head, until I was sure that one more blow would break it.

Then that day came. My old man had come in late from Hob drunk, as usual. He vomited on the floor as usual. My mother would try to clean it up.

"Leave it," He snapped.

"This will only take a minute," She pleaded.

"I SAID LEAVE IT!"

He smacked her so hard she fell to the ground.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

My old man looked at who it was. It was my brother.

No no no no. Larie, what have you done?

"What d'you say to me?" My old man demanded to know.

I could see from his face that Larie instantly regretted his outburst.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He begged.

"WHAT D'YOU SAY TO ME?"

He advanced on him. I tried my usual tactic of drawing the attention to me, but he was too full of rage to listen. My old man grabbed my little brother by the throat and pinned him to the wall as he raised his hand.

"No!"

Grabbing the knife from the table I plunged it in his back between the shoulder blades. He screamed like a wounded animal, trying to pull the blade out, but it was out of his reach. He looked at me, his eyes full of rage.

"You little brat! Come ere!"

He tried to grab me, but I was too quick for him.

"Come here and get hit!"

He was older, and worn down by drink.

"Stop!" My mother screamed.

Eventually I stopped. He looked at me with a greedy look.

"Finally stopped running, eh? Finally decided to act like a man?"

"What kind of man beats up women and little children?" I retort.

That sent him in a rage, just as I had intended. Because I hadn't stopped running to take his punishment. I had lured him into my trap. I dodged the punch he threw, which smashed through the wall, trapping him. He tried to pull it out, but it was stuck.

"Stop it!" My ma continued to plea, but I wasn't listening. Now it was time to finish him off, but my weapon was still lodged in his back, and it was too high for me to grab. Eventually he managed to pull his fist out of the wall, staggering backwards. He slipped on the pile of vomit he puked earlier, falling backwards to the floor. The knife burst through his chest. He stared at the blade, shocked over what had just happened. Then he looked at me. I did not look away, I want to make it clear that he was dead by my hand, and I was glad. He gave me this confused look, as if he couldn't believe that a boy shy of being 12 had just killed him. He then out what sounded like a gurgling sound, then his head slumped back.

"NO!"

My mother ran to his side, clutching his body.

"No!"

"Haymitch!"

I turned to the cries of my little brother, taking him to the other room, hugging him.

"Shh. It's over now. He can't hurt you any longer. He can't hurt anyone any longer."

I can't remember how long I held him in my arms as we remained in silence, before he asked me.

"What are we going to do now, Haymitch?"

"It'll be okay. Ma will get a job, and just to make sure we're okay I'll take tesserae when I turn 12 next week."

"No!"

He hugged me tighter.

"No, I don't want you to!"

"It'll be, okay, Larie. Lots of people take tesserae."

"I'm sorry, Haymitch! I shouldn't have yelled at Dad!"

"No," I told him, how could I fault him for doing that, "No, it was about time someone stood up to him."

Soon the peacekeepers had arrived. Ma had covered up my actions, removing the knife, wiping off the finger prints, taking my old man's hand and pressing it onto the handle before placing it back in through the front of the chest. She lied to the peacekeepers, saying that my old man had come in drunk as usual, waving the knife around and taking out his anger against the wall, only for his hand to get stuck and when he pulled it out he slipped on the vomit he puked earlier and in the fall the knife ended up in his chest. Everyone knew he was the town drunk, and that he was prone to violence, so none of the peacekeepers questioned her story. After his body was wheeled out to the morgue, my Ma had broken down into tears. I reached over to comfort her.

"Ma-"

"Don't touch me!"

She smacked my hand away. I was shocked.

"Ma?"

"I said get away from me!"

The look she gave me. Ouch. It hurt. It hurt that she loved that monster more than me, when I had only done what I had to to save my brother, her other son.

The next day, word spread in the district. No one knew what exactly happened. There were different versions, but most of them agreed that I had brutally murdered my old man and got away with it. Some included that I did it to save my little brother, but overall that didn't seem to matter. Children started to avoid me, while others whispered 'killer' behind my back. Not that I cared.

When Recess started I didn't want to be anywhere near the other children, or even members of the staff that believed the rumours too. I escaped school, and ran as fast as I could away from it, away from the town, away from everyone! Eventually I found myself in the meadow. It was quiet and peaceful there, away from any human contact. I just stared at the horizon. I could hear someone walk up to me. I didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

"Mitch."

"What do you want, Mel?"

Mel seemed to struggle as to what to say.

"Come to ask what happened, did you? How I murdered my old man?"

"No."

I looked at him. He really didn't seem to care what happened. It annoyed me that he didn't care.

"You should probably stay away from me from now on. I'm no good to be around."

"I don't think that."

"Will you stop it?" I turned to look at him, "Just go, will you? Go and hang out with your other friends."

"Mitch-"

"I SAID GO!"

"Okay. Okay."

He turned to walk away. No. That wasn't what I wanted.

"Mel, wait!"

Mel turned back to look at me.

"I'm-"

I couldn't manage to say the word. We just stared at each other. It was Mel who broke the silence.

"You called me your friend."

"So?"

"That's the first time you've ever done that."

I thought about what he said. I had considered our friendship had started after that fight, when we respected each other's fighting capability. Although we never officially became friends after that. More like sparring partners. It took longer for us to confide in each other, to even hang around like friends. I think the time when we officially became friends was at his Dad's funeral, even though even after that we never outright said we were friends.

"Well? Aren't we?" I snapped.

It annoyed me that Mel had to even take time considering that.

"I guess so."

"You guess?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Well yeah. Even if you can be an asshole."

That caused me to laugh, and he laughed too. I sat down, watching the horizon.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked.

I shrugged.

"Do what you want," I told him, instead of saying, yes, I don't want to be alone right now.

And so he did. Instantly we started talking about other things, as if nothing had happened.

Ma started to work in the mines. Between the tesserae I got and having someone supporting us who did not spend all of the money on drink, we managed to get by. However, my Ma could never look at me again, and I was so hurt and angry about it that I decided she was dead to me as well! We became strangers living in the same house. In a way, I lost both parents that day.

The door opened, and at once I straightened up, banishing any fear I had behind a smile. My Ma and brother had entered.

"I'll leave you two alone," Said a peacekeeper who had escorted them in.

The door was closed behind us.

Larie burst into tears.

"I don't want you to die, Haymitch!"

"Hey hey hey! Come on!"

I bent down so we were at face level.

"You're going to be the man of the house when I'm away, so no crying, ok?"

I wiped the tears from his face. He sniffed.

"Ok, Haymitch. I promise."

I placed my hands on his shoulders.

"Just think. When I win, we'll be able to move into a big house! And have so much money we won't know what do with it!"

I was just saying this for his benefit, when I knew my chances of surviving were low to nil. At once he hugged me.

"I love you, Haymitch!"

"Okay, Okay," I tell him, untangling him from me, because I was afraid that if he hugged me any longer I would break down into tears.

"Larie, can you wait outside, please?" My Ma asked him.

He nodded, and walked out. Now it was just the two of us, and it was as awkward as you can imagine. For the first time in years, I looked at her straight in the eye, before looking away. Putting my hands in my pockets, I slowly looked up.

"Bet you'll be glad when I'm gone, eh M-"

She hugged me.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, "I'm so, so sorry, for keeping my distance all these years! You must have thought I hated you, but the truth is I never stopped loving you! And now there's no more time…"

I was stunned. It had been so long since I felt her embrace, her hands that comforted me when I was little. I hugged her back. For the first time, I broke down, letting my mask fall away.

"I'm scared, Ma."

"I know you are. I know."

Eventually she said "I forgive you."

That urked me, that she forgave me for protecting Larie, but at that time I didn't care.

We heard the door start to open.

"Haymitch."

She looked at me straight in the eye. There was a hardness in her that I rarely saw.

"Haymitch, listen to me! You can win," She shook me slightly, "You are strong. You are fast. You are resourceful, you are smart, and what's more you're a-"

She didn't finish that sentence, as she was pulled away. And then they were gone. I thought about what my Ma had said. And I was concerned about what she was going to say. Because I realise how she could be certain that I could win.

She was going to say because I was a killer.

Later, Rachelle had come to visit me. For a moment, we just looked at each other. Then, starting to cry, she strolled towards me and we interlocked lips. Then our hands were all over each other. I pulled her in tightly. The kisses were mixed with tears. For a moment, I had forgotten where I was, or that I had been chosen. All that existed was me and her in a tight, blissful embrace. I could have stayed there forever. Then the door opened again, and the little bubble was burst, and I was back in the room, about to be readied for slaughter.

"Haymitch! Haymitch!" She shouted as she was dragged out, "I love you!"

"I know! I know I-"

For a moment I didn't know what to say, as she was taken away, out of my life. I didn't get a chance to say it. I had a final visitor. It was Mel. For a moment we just stared at each other.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I should have volunteered. If I had-"

"No you shouldn't have. Someone needs to look after your mom."

For a moment we just looked at each other. Then we walked towards each other and hugged each other, patting the other on the back.

"I love you, man."

I was startled by this sudden expression of affection.

"Alright, get off," I pushed him off, "Before we both start growing lady parts."

He looked at me. And nodded.

"Take care, Haymitch."

He walked out. I stared at the closed door. Why? Why did that have to be my last words to him? Why couldn't I have said I love him too, tell him how much his friendship has meant to me, how it helped me get through even the darkest parts of my life? Everyone I cared about, each of them told me they loved me in their own way, and I couldn't even say the words back to them. Too busy looking tough, appearing tough. They must know I love them too. Right? I swore to myself, that if by some miracle that I survived this, when I came home, I would tell each other them that I love them too.

Sadly, though, I would only ever do that with one of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own 'Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

As I laid there on the couch, my mind drifting back to 25 years ago, I realised that I couldn't hide in my compartment forever. I should probably make some effort in being around. Sitting up, I walked out of the door and –

Aw no.

I've just caught sight of someone who was undoubtedly the boy tribute. Now I knew this blond haired and blue eyed person was definitely Town Folk. I've seen him work at the bakery. Peter, I think his name was.

Damn. I forgot my own rule about never naming the tributes.

For a moment we just looked at each other.

Nope. On second thoughts I'm not up to seeing the tributes together right about now.

"Gonna take a nap," I muttered as I walked back into my compartment. Hopefully it looked like I only just went in as opposed to coming out only to retreat back in. I laid back down on the couch.

Although I rarely got town kids, it did happen. It was annoying when it did. See, whenever the tributes die, guess who gets blamed for not preparing them, for not getting them gifts from sponsors who could have helped them survive? Already I was banned from butchers, the apothecary, the sweet shop, and the undertakers (Which was going to be a huge problem when I finally kicked the bucket. Despite being filthy rich, sadly that income ends when you die. Not that I want a fancy funeral. They would probably throw me in a ditch somewhere). Not that I would ever frequent those places often, it was just annoying when it did. Guess I'll be adding the bakery to that list.

As if it was my fault they all died! As if there was nothing I could have done to save them! And I tried, I really did. When I first became a mentor, I was confident in thinking that I could teach future kids how to survive. At first, after the first couple of defeats, I thought that maybe once I was older than the tributes they would listen to me more, and not just look down at me just because I was younger or came from the seam, but it didn't make a difference. I told them to avoid the cornucopia, they died. I tell them to go for the cornucopia, they died faster. I tell them to make allies, they died. I tell them to go it alone, they died. I tell them to look fierce, they died. I tell them to look vulnerable, they died. I tried to be hard, I tried to be pleasant, no matter what I path took, what strategy I adopted, eventually, sooner or later, every one under my care was slaughtered. It probably didn't help that I drank more later to calm my nerves. After the tenth hunger games I was mentoring in, and my kids died in front of my eyes on the screen, I just gave up even trying. From that point on, the only advice I would ever give to any future tributes was 'stay alive'. As good as it did any of them, as without my guidance they just died faster. Well, better sooner than later I thought. At least that's what I tell myself. I thought about Raybearta, the previous mentor before me, and how she couldn't make a victor out of the numerous tributes under her care. Of course, she won because of her heritage. I only won because I did something that, had I known the consequences, I wouldn't have dared to, and I wouldn't tell any of the tributes to follow in my footsteps.

Coming to, I sat up and found it was night time. Had I really fallen asleep a few hours ago? Well, better sooner than later to introduce myself. I wondered if I had missed supper? And along with that any drink available?

Eventually I came to the carriage where the tributes were having supper with Effie.

"Will Haymitch be joining us?" I heard the girl ask.

The boy mentioned how he had seen me before, when I said I was going to take a nap. Later the two of them made fun of me and how I'm always drunk. I smiled. At least my presence gave them something to laugh about. However Effie then spoke, reminding them it was my job to get them sponsors, whose gifts would be a matter of life and death.

Life and death.

Her words sobered me. I walked in.

"Have I missed supper?"

I looked at the tributes. Imagined what their future would be. Dead, bloodied, sprawled on the floor. The boy and the girl.

Everdeen's girl.

I threw up and collapsed on the ground. As I laid there on the floor, I was aware of someone tiptoeing around me, likely Effie. Next thing I knew were someone helping me up. Probably the tributes. They helped me back in my compartment and into the bathtub. I heard the boy dismiss the girl. She offered to summon the servants.

"No," The boy told her, "I don't want them."

The boy helped me get undressed, washed and in bed. Probably trying to garner favour with me. How is he gonna feel when he discovers it was all for nothing?

Have I really become this pathetic? Only 40, always drunk, throwing up all over the place, unable to get up from my own puke, needing a couple of kids to even help me stand up, bathe and dressed? I wasn't always. There was a time that I didn't drink a drop of alcohol, not even when it was offered! The first time I was on a train, on my way to the capitol, they offered us all kinds of food, and I ate a bit of everything. I stuffed myself, knowing that it would be good to gain a few pounds, and that I would likely starve in the arena. But not the wine. Never the wine, or any form of alcohol. That was the one thing I didn't touch, as I vowed that not a single drop would pass through my lips (Another promise that I would eventually end up breaking). Two of my other fellow tributes also ate like there was no tomorrow, much to the disgust of our escort, Eulalia Charm, or requested to be referred to as 'Mrs Charm'. A middle aged, portly woman, she had blue, short hair, white make up, bright red lipstick and fingernails the same colour has her hair.

"Well, I can see at least one of you was brought up with table manners!"

She was referring to Maysilee Donner, the only tribute this year who came from a merchant family, who although ate as quickly as she could, at least used a knife and fork, ate from a plate and used a napkin, whereas the rest of us just used our hands when we could, grabbing what we could and stuffing it in our mouths. Bits of food and juice were on the faces of my fellow seam tributes as I'm sure were on mine, but this was our least concern. Well, could you blame us? Barely having enough to eat before suddenly having more than we ever had in our entire lives? People probably have more time to worry about table manners when you had enough to eat like in a merchant's family, like Maysilee's family! I always took a little satisfaction whenever a merchant kid was chosen. Let them scramble for survival like the rest of us! I don't know why she was eating like she had never had anything to eat like the rest of us. Especially since she worked in a sweet shop she should be used to nice tasting stuff!

I noticed that she had a brooch. It was made of gold, and had some kind of bird. It was probably meant to be her token. It was so like the merchants. Having something that could have fed a family bread for months like jewellery! I don't know why, but it looked familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint where I've seen it before.

"Will Raybearta be joining us?" Maysilee asked.

Come to think of it, I hadn't seen Raybearta since the reaping.

"Oh, um, I'm afraid Miss Wallace likes to keep to herself on the journey to the Capitol."

"Well, I just thought that since she is our mentor that she should be here to mentor us," Raybearta reasoned.

"Yes, well, um, she takes a more laissez faire approach when it comes to mentoring."

Mrs Charm looked annoyed as she saw most of us didn't understand what she meant.

"What that means is-"

"It means she's too busy getting drunk on her ass while the rest of us die!" I shouted.

Everyone else looked shocked when I said this. Mrs Charm composed herself.

"I would prefer, Mr Abernathy," She told me, "That you would refrain from using such coarse language, especially regarding your mentor. She is, after all, the one responsible for securing sponsors for you all, which will lead to money for gifts that could end up saving your life in the arena."

"Well then we're all pretty much screwed, aren't we?"

The other girl tribute, Leslie Herlihy, burst into tears. Maysilee, to my surprise, tried to comfort her. I always thought that merchant kids preferred to avoid contact with us if they could. I felt bad, making her cry, although I did my best to conceal this.

"You're a jerk, Haymitch!" Maysilee snapped at me.

"What?" I shrugged, "I'm only just saying what we're all thinking, right? Or did any of you actually think that one of us would be coming home?"

I really hoped that wasn't the case.

"Just what is your problem, Haymitch?" The other boy tribute, Mat Rayburn, demanded to know.

"Hey," I laid back in my chair, acting more casual than I actually felt, "I just think the best thing we can all do right now is just accept our inevitable demise."

Awful, I know, awful thing to say, but once I'm going I can't stop, not even when someone was crying even more because of me. I did my best to hide this affecting me as it did.

"Now now, there's no need to despair!" Mrs Charm tried to comfort, "The other districts have at least two victors! District 12 is definitely up for another one anytime soon!"

"Yeah?" I questioned, "And how is that supposed to happen when the one person in District 12 who actually survived this thing is locked in her room getting drunk on her ass?"

"Mr Abernathy, please, language!"

I laughed.

"You think I care? About good manners? If I speak politely, or use a knife and fork and napkin to eat my food? How is that supposed to help me in the arena? What, the careers won't kill me if I ask them not to do it nicely?"

I could see that Mrs Charm was doing her best to remain patient with me.

"First of all, I would like to assure you all that these stories you've heard about 'career tributes' are unfounded myths. All tributes have an equal chance of winning from any district."

"Then how come most of the victors come from 1 and 2?" I accused.

"...Secondly, sponsors tend to favour those tributes who are at least able to present themselves well."

"I repeat, how are sponsors supposed to help me if the one person who seals the deal is too busy getting drunk off her-"

Given that I had already used the word 'ass' twice, I decided to go for the rudest word I could think of, one that caused shock from everyone and Mrs Charm to almost faint.

"Mr Abernathy!"

"Mr Abernathy!" I imitated her high voice. Honestly, the look on her face was worth it.

"Well excuse us if trying to survive in the arena and killing the other tributes isn't a big deal to the rest of us!" Mat shouted at me, "Then again, we all know that you have no problem with killing."

That touched a nerve. And I could see from the boy's face that he instantly regretted his words as I shot up and lunged at him, despite Mrs Charm's cries of "No! No fighting amongst tributes!"

"Keep it down, will ya?"

There was banging behind me when my fingers were just a few inches from Mat's neck. I turned around. Raybearta Wallace, who was supposed to be our Mentor, was at the entrance. An elderly woman in her sixties, she had the seam appearance, mind you she looked much older, with her saggy skin and missing the odd tooth. Around her neck was a necklace with a cross. In her hand was a bottle of liquor. You could have smelled the fumes over here.

"Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied sarcastically, "Interrupted your beauty sleep, did we? It's not like you have anything do, like teach tributes how to survive or anything."

"Mr Abernathy!" Mrs Charm said again, "I am terribly sorry for this one's behaviour, Miss Wallace."

"Thank you, Eula, but I can take care of myself thank you very much. How's the food?"

"Why don't you come join us and find out?" I dared.

"No thanks, I've got all the sustenance here."

She held up the bottle.

"Tried the wine?"

"No," I said.

"Oh. You might do. Eventually," She tells me.

"What? And risk becoming a sad drunk like you? No thanks," I tell her.

"Mr Abernathy!" Mrs Charm said again, but Raybearta was laughing.

"What? I am a sad drunk. This boy here, he's very perceptive."

I was pretty sure she was making fun of me right now.

"Well, I'll leave you to it."

She turned to walk away.

"Um, are you sure you wouldn't like to join us, Ray?" Mrs Charm asked.

Raybeart continued to walk away, raising her bottle. That would be a no, I take it.

"I am awfully sorry, children," Mrs Charm apologised, "Miss Wallace is in a much better mood when she hasn't been drinking."

When would that be? I thought to myself.

"Well then, the reapings should be on soon, let's watched those."

I continued watching Raybearta walk away and disappear from view. I was expecting this. But still, the way she just walked out on everyone when she was supposed to be helping with keeping us alive. It's no wonder we haven't had a victor since her! Course, I didn't let it show that it bothered me. It was a good thing that she came in when she did though, as fighting between tributes before the arena is illegal. Usually I don't care about breaking rules, but I'm pretty sure that if I had pinned to the wall it wouldn't be good for me. I turned around and found that all my fellow tributes had been killed. Blood from their mouths, their eyes wide open. Matt, slumped down on the table. Leslie, tears still pouring from her eyes. Eula was sitting down, old and bloated, laughing as she helped herself to a piece of entrail coming out of Leslie, cutting it off with her knife and placing it on her plate.

"Oh Mr Abernathy, please be a dear and pass the Maysilee, won't you?"

I turned to Maysilee, who sprang to life despite the hole in her neck, although I knew she wasn't going to last long.

"Haymitch," She begged, her bloodied hand raising to me as she got up.

I screamed, sitting up. I was in my bed in my compartment. I fell back, my hands to my face.

A dream. A nightmare. Unfortunately unlike most nightmares, where people only faced potential or imaginary foes, mine always had an element of truth in them. I don't remember getting in bed. Mind you I have problems recollecting a lot of things nowadays. I think I recall someone helping me get ready. The boy, maybe? He was probably trying to garner favour with me. He will learn soon that helping wash my filthy body was all for nothing! It was day time. Well, there was no point trying to get back to sleep! Getting up, I went to breakfast. See, Raybearta? At least I make the effort to be present! Deciding I needed to get some food in me, I took my selection from the buffet, helped myself to some orange juice, and poured my choice of spirit in the glass. The boy was already there. The girl later joined us. I beckoned her over. Well Raybearta. I turned out to be better than you after all!

After she finished her breakfast, the girl asked me the question they always ask me. And I just told them the same thing I tell every pair.

"Stay alive."

I couldn't help but break down into laughter, over the futility of that statement, how none of them stayed alive. At this point they'll break in tears.

"Yeah. That's funny. Except not for us."

The boy knocked the drink out of my hands.

I thought about what just happened. That had never happened before. No one, not even the most foolhardy tribute, ever dared to stand in the way between me and my drink. And I also thought how I was annoyed that he had done this, so I punched him in the face. I reached out for the bottle.

The knife barely missed my fingers. I looked up, into the eyes of this girl. That look. I had never seen that look before, not in any previous tributes. But I had seen that look before...

Something in me reignited.

"What's this? Have they actually sent me a couple of fighters?"

The boy went to put ice on his cheek.

"Stop!"

I got up to stop him, the mentor in me awakening, the part of me that I thought I had extinguished with time and drink. I told him it will look like he got in a fight with another tribute, and even though it's illegal, it will look like he got away with it. I asked the girl if she could throw the knife. It landed deep in the wall.

Yes, I thought. Could it be?

I took a good look at the tributes for the first time, checking their build. Though medium build, the boy was quite stocky. Probably through years of carrying bread trays and having enough to eat. The girl, although smaller, had a fair amount of muscle on her too, likely from the time she spent hunting in the woods. Both were fairly attractive, which would make getting sponsors for them more likely. And so I made a deal. They wouldn't get in the way of my drinking, and I would remain sober enough to help them. They agreed. At once the girl went into asking about the strategy regarding the cornucopia before I stopped her. One step at a time. First step, I told them to do whatever the stylists wanted, not matter how much they wanted to complain. And with that, I took the bottle with me to my compartment. If I was really intent on becoming sober later on, then I was going to have to enjoy the rest of this bottle.

Maybe it is just because I'm drunk. Or that I'm old. But I had seen something in those I had never seen before in any of my tributes. A fighting spirit. And if there was a chance that there could be a victor this time, shouldn't I take it?

Ow. My hand stung. I looked at my red knuckles, seeing where I had hit the boy. I had hit the boy.

I didn't mean to! I was just annoyed that he knocked away my drink! I wouldn't have done it if I was sober! It was only because I was drunk!

Because I was drunk...

Part of the reason why I never had a family, was that I knew that I would need to choose between the drink or having a family. I couldn't part with the drink, so I couldn't have a family. I couldn't bear the thought of beating up whatever sorrowful woman who thought it was a good idea to marry me, with our children only a few feet away, the younger looking terrified of me, the other full of hate, wanting me dead. The image was too much to bear. As I washed my knuckles, I looked up, and thought I saw my old man looking back at me.

"no," I whispered, "I'm not you. I'm not you!"


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own 'Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

After enjoying what remained of my bottle (and the effects that came with it) and approaching the time that I would have to get back to work, I drank lots of water, took some medication that I never ended up using before, and had a proper meal. It felt good, getting actual food in me. It's just that I always go for the drink first, but this time I couldn't afford it. It felt like a long time since I felt really sober. I hated the feeling. The more I got, though, the more I questioned my decision about actually helping the tributes today. Well, I made a promise to them, and even though I didn't have a good track record for keeping promises, I intended to keep this one. To the best of my ability. After having a shower and getting dressed I got groomed. Later, I decided to join the crowd as usual for the chariot rides.

"Hey, Haymitch! Over here!"

Chaff had saved me a seat, beckoning me over. Now this guy actually was my best friend, that is out of all the friends I had he was my best. If there was one thing I looked forward to every year going to the Capitol (Aside from venturing to the different bars) is meeting up with all of my friends. Aside from Chaff there was Seeder, who was like a second Mom to me; Joanna Mason, who reminded me of myself when I was young, and who unlike most of us resisted the use of drugs to deal with the affects of the games despite losing everyone she cared about at home. Blight. Woof. Cecelia. Beetee and Wiress, nicknamed Nuts and Volts (Wiress, well, you could probably guess the reason, Beetee for how he took out the career pack and become victor). See, that's what me and my friends all had in common.

We were all victors.

No, victor's not the right word. I know that's what we're called, except I don't feel like a victor. Survivor might be more accurate. And so since surviving we all got together every year, supported each other (In my case, supporting involved a lot of drinking), and comforted any of us who had gone through a hard time, including losing any tributes. Mind you, the group of victors I hung around with all come from the non-career districts, and tended to keep separate from the much larger group that hailed from Districts 1, 2 and 4. Too many of our tributes we mentored, loved ones who ended up becoming tributes, or even fellow tributes in our respective games had died at their hands or the ones they mentored for us to truly get along. Mind you there was the odd Career victor I liked, like Finnick Odair.

It's funny that I had friends plural, when before the games, I wasn't exactly the most sociable person. Mel tried once to introduce me to his gang of other friends, but I wasn't interested in knowing any of them. Just him. Although funnily enough, when I first made contact with the different victors and joined this group, it was remarked that I was more sociable than Raybearta, who preferred to remain separate from the other victors.

I noticed Chaff was staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't believe it!"

"Believe what?"

He squinted his eyes at me.

"Are you actually…sober?"

"Oh. Um, well, more sober than I was this morning."

Chaff laughed.

"More like than you have been for over two decades! I haven't seen you sober during a Hunger Games since…oh!"

"Oh what?"

Chaff moved closer to me.

"So, these kids this year are something, am I right?"

Chaff had guessed it. The last time I was sober, at least for the start of a Hunger Games, was the 55th, back when I was trying to save a tribute. Course, I was still trying even after that, although I wasn't shy of having a drink while doing it. Chaff realised that if I was sober, it meant that I felt that my tributes this year had a chance.

Which was a problem.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I told him.

Chaff, unreadable, just nodded and turned back to the stadium. See, this was the one drawback. The invisible wall that stopped all of us victors from truly becoming friends. Because even though we all liked each other, and got along with each other, ultimately the truth was that we were competitors. Most in our group were mentors to the tributes in every hunger games, whose job it was to ensure the survival of their tributes, which brought them into direct conflict with each other. Even those of us who weren't mentors, or who were mentors who either stopped trying like myself or weren't in the right state to be of help to anyone, still owed some loyalty to their districts. In a way I think it's worse for those who have more than one mentor. Districts tend to have at least two mentors. Technically, they were a team, but it was more complex than that. In most cases each mentor would choose one of the tributes to prioritise, meaning that they were in direct competition with each other just as with other districts as well, having secret strategies and getting sponsors for each, and if the time came when their tributes were forced to fight each other... I think in that way I was lucky not to have a partner, although the worst part of my job (at least back when I tried) was choosing which tribute to save, deciding which one had the better chance of survival.

Soon the chariots started rolling in. I wondered how the kids had done. I know it wasn't fun getting waxed. I tried to fight off, but I was told off by Mrs Charm. I felt so unmanly with all my hair removed, yet here it was considered a sign of beauty. Course, I've seen what they considered beauty. Then of course there were the outfits. They tended to be miner outfits, too big for any of us. I found it especially amusing when Maysilee was in one of them, given that she was a merchant child who wouldn't have had to engage to mining work. One set of stylists tried to be clever by focusing on the coal rather than the job, painting the tributes naked black.

Not the best year, that one.

"Wait, what's that?" Chaff asked.

I heard screams from the crowd. When the chariot for 12 came in the tributes were on fire.

I was beginning to regret my advice to do whatever the stylists told them.

It took me a moment to realise that the fire was just an effect. Fire on black costumes.

Burning coal.

When the rest of the crowd realised what was happening, their screams turned into cheers. Soon everyone was cheering, probably for the first time for District 12.

Well, that left an impression. For the first time since I can remember from District 12. The fire in my that rekindled earlier was now as burned as bright as the fire on my two tributes.

* * *

That evening we celebrated our success. Effie and I got along for the first time in years. The new stylists, Cinna and Portia, kept us in order. She was more shocked than Chaff was that I was relatively sober, having never seen me as anything else before. Well, not in person at least. The kids had their first taste of wine (Which I realised too late was a mistake), when the cake was brought out and the girl noticed the avox.

"Oh, I know you!"

That wasn't possible. How could she know the avox?

I explained that avoxes are traitors. I know, I was surprised as she was to learn that there were those in the Capitol despite having everything in excess were dissatisfied with the rule. But there was no way she could know the avox girl. Unless…

I knew that she hunted in the woods, and if for reason there were fugitives there… No one could know that she hunted, as poaching was punishable by death. Even though she was already practically sentenced to death already this could cause problems for her if she survived, or at least for those back in District 12. The girl was stammering, and the wine didn't help. Alcohol could act like a truth serum, especially for a novice. I wouldn't have let her have any if I could have anticipated this! Thankfully the boy stepped in, saying she looked like someone called Delly Cartwright.

"Yes, that's who she reminds me of!"

The tension disappeared. We watched a replay of the games. I noted something I noticed before.

"Whose idea was it to hold hands?" I asked.

"Cinna's," The girl replied.

I turned to Cinna.

"Nice touch of rebellion."

Tributes, even from the same district, were after all meant to be competitors. I put a little emphasis on the word 'rebellion'. When the replays finished, I shooed the kids off to bed.

"The grown ups need to talk," I told them.

They left.

"So," I turned to Cinna and Portia, "What was the idea around the holding hands?"

"What, you think we're sort of rebels or something?"

I didn't think that. But if they seemed to oppose to capitol, it meant that I like them.

"It's part of a radical idea we have that we wan't to go through with you two. With your approval as Mentor and Escort to the District 12 tributes."

"Let's hear hear it," I said.

"Well, we were thinking of having them presented as a team."

"A team?"

"Well, why not? The tributes who win most often form teams."

Yes, that was true. The Careers even ate together at the gym where they trained for the games, unless that has changed since I was a tribute or the last time I quizzed the tributes on the goings on. No, it was unlikely to change, as eating together is a way to cement their alliance, even a temporary one. And that's the thing. The alliance always broke down in the end once they were the only ones left.

"So you want them presented as allies?"

"More than allies," Cinna explained, "like an actual team, whose team members care about each other, who do everything together, who genuinely enjoy each other's company. Even dress identically, I don't think that's something the other tributes do!"

No they don't. But there is a reason for it.

"You do realise that only one of them can survive, right? That if it came down to just the two of them, one would have to kill the other?"

"Well that would only happen if one of them isn't already killed. And if by chance they are the last two left and are forced to fight each other to the death, well, the audience will have no choice but to see this happy team tear itself apart, won't they?"

I looked at Portia, and it seemed that she agreed with Cinna's plan. What Cinna was suggesting, it was certainly rebellious, showing that tributes were more than pieces in the game makers, that they were more than just participants meant to kill each other, that they are human beings with real feelings and the Capitol would have no choice but acknowledge that these two team mates, even friends, were forced to fight each other to the death. Yes, it was rebellious. But there was some rebellion you could get away with. Raybearta wore a token on her games that would have gotten her shot outside of the Hunger Games, but she just presented it as a precious memento of her father (Which it was). But considering she was already reclined to the fate of death she got away with it. I turned to Effie.

"What do you think?"

Effie seemed even more shocked than me being sober that I was asking her opinion.

"You're the mentor," She told me, "It's your decision."

"True," I replied, "But you are the one responsible for making them presentable to the Capitol. How do you think it will go down?"

Wrapping her head around the idea that I valued her opinion, Effie thought about it.

"Well, as far as I know there's no actual law forbidding tributes from the same district to be wearing the same clothes. Nor are there any rules that prevent them from being friendly with each other or training together. And if it did happen if they were forced to kill each it would certainly cause emotion. It's certainly never been done before!"

Never done before. No, it would be new and different. The audience liked to watch something new and different. And I wondered what kind of emotion them fighting to the death would cause? I turned back to Cinna.

"Sure, why not?"

I wondered how the tributes would react to our radical plan. They would certainly object, given that they are competitors. Then again I have a feeling that the boy might be more willing to go along with it. I thought about what he said earlier, that the avox looked like someone they knew called Delly Cartwright. Somehow I doubted that she really looked like this Delly Cartwright. For one thing, there are no redheads in District 12. Also if I'm not mistaken, a Cartwright family runs a shoe shop. If that's so then the avox definitely didn't look like the girl their age that I've seen work there. It was almost as if the boy had covered for her. What I couldn't work out is why. Why protect someone who was ultimately your competitor?

* * *

After having what was probably the best sleep I've had in a long time, I got ready to meet the tributes in the dining room for breakfast.

"Remind me," I asked Effie, "what are their names again?"

Effie sighed.

"Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen."

"Right, that's it."

Even though internally I still called them the boy and the girl, I was gonna have to use their names as well. Can't just keep calling them 'Boy' and 'Sweetheart' for the rest of the week after all!

The girl was already there, helping herself to food. The boy joined soon after. After filling myself with several platters of stew watered down with my own personal flask, I got straight to business. First thing first, I asked them if they wanted to be coached together or separately, in case one of them had a special skill they didn't want the other to know about. The boy said that he didn't have any secret skills, but that he already knew what the girl's was, having eating enough of her squirrels.

Squirrels? That's right! Graian Mellark the baker used to buy squirrels from Everdeen when he was a kid! It sounded like he still had a taste for them even now, cooking them for his family. Mind you I'm pretty sure his wife wouldn't have allowed it if she knew where they came from!

The girl said that they could coach them together, and the boy agreed. Secondly, I asked them what they could do. The boy said he couldn't do anything unless I counted baking bread, which I told him I didn't, and then I turned to the girl, saying that I already know she's good with a knife. She surprised me by denying she was, but saying she could hunt with a bow and arrow. That didn't surprise me, as I knew those were the best tools to use for hunting. However, I was still disappointed that her choice of weapon was the bow and arrow, as opposed to the knife, which was mine.

"And you're good?" I asked.

She considered this.

"I'm alright," She replied.

The boy stepped in, telling me how excellent she was, how she can hit squirrels and rabbits in the eye rather than the body, and that she can even bring down deer. I stared at the boy. There it was again. I don't recall any previous tribute overselling the other's skills, even if they knew them, when they should be more concerned with selling themselves. I could see the girl also found his praise suspicious, asking what he was doing. Then the two go into an argument, a strange argument where each brought up the other's skills. I learnt that the boy could lift up to 50-kilo bags of flour, and that he came second in wrestling in the school competition last year. Now that was interesting. However, the boy didn't think it was much, and ended up getting angry, tell her that his own mother, when coming to see him after he was chosen, the time when you're supposed to say your final goodbyes, how much they love you or even encourage you, told him that the girl was sure to win. I remember Cleeva at school. She was a horrid cow even then, especially towards us seam kids. Mind you she tried to charm me after I became a victor and was single again, probably thinking it would be such a great thing marrying a victor. She wasn't the only one. One minute I was despised, now I became the most desirable match. Course, I turned them all away. Rather aggressively. They may have thought they would be getting a life of comfort from me, but I knew they were better off being as far away as possible. So no, it didn't surprise me that she had no maternal bone in her body, but to even praise another tribute, let alone a seam kid, over her own son, in front of his face?

The argument ended with the boy telling the girl how she would get so many sponsors, and when she denied this, saying that she would get no more than him, he turned to made and said that she had no idea, the effect she has.

She may not have any idea, but I think I do, if she's anything like her old man. It's hard to describe, though, the way people trusted him, the way he could easily make friends with anyone, how they adored him. He was the type of person who if he declared war on someone, then you would gladly follow him in battle. It's a lot like his singing. I still remember the first time I heard him sing. It was the first day of school. I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay with Ma and the baby, but Ma told me that I had to go to school and it was the law. She also told me that school will help me when I became a coal miner. So I decided I would go to school, because if I became a coal miner, then I could support Ma and my baby brother until he was grown up, so that we didn't have to live and rely on my old man anymore! When it was Music, I thought that music had nothing to do with coal mining so I wasn't paying attention.

Then I heard that voice. And I'm not making this up. But after he sang, the Mockingjays outside started singing in return. You could see the awe in everyone's face. Not me, though. I was probably the only one he didn't enchant. I laughed so loud it caused everyone to look at me. I noticed the looks everyone was giving me.

"He sings like a girl!"

I can still see the expression on Everdeen's face when I said that.

From that point on, him and me were enemies. Well OK, enemies might be too dramatic a word. We definitely didn't get along, considering that my comment didn't go down well. With anyone really. Maybe that's why I had so much trouble making friends. But that's the kind of effect he had on people, and from what I saw at the reaping, the girl had a similar effect. Of course, from the way she was glaring at that bread roll you'd think that the boy had insulted in some way, as if he was saying that people pitied her or something. The awkward silence went on for over a minute before I decided to break it, telling them not to underestimate their abilities but be aware of the limitations they might encounter in the arena. So I told them to keep their skills a secret, the girl to stay away from archery, and the boy not to show how much he could carry. They needed to save that for their private interview. I also told them to learn new skills from the different stations.

And then came the last controversial instruction. I told them to be at each other's side in public for every minute. As expected, this got a reaction, but I banged my hands on the table, told them it wasn't up for discussion, and to get out, and meet Effie at the elevator at 10.

I was probably a little harsh when I told them to get out, I know, but trust me I am friendly when compared to Ray! bearta. I could see that the girl had the most trouble with my latest instruction, but she bit her lip. As they went back to their rooms, I thought about my latest tributes. I assumed the reaping was the first time they met, but it seemed these two knew each other. Or at least they knew of each other, the boy aware of the girl's hunting abilities, the girl seen him in the market and aware of his wrestling. Well, that wasn't anything unusual. The girl's hunting abilities would have likely been well known in town, and the boy would also have been known if he came second in wrestling. As for seeing him in the market? Well, it would be hard not to have seen everyone else in District 12, and she would have likely known that he was one of the baker boys. No. It seemed to go further than that. What was it that the girl said to the comment the boy made about what Cleeva said about her being a survivor? _Only because someone helped me._ The way she said it to the boy, as if it was a comment directly towards him, that he was the reason she was a survivor. When she said that, his eyes darted to the bread roll she was holding. Bread. Was it something to do with bread? Working at a bakery, it made sense. Had the boy given her bread when she was starving, enabling her to go on? Somehow I doubted his family would have let him do that for free, as the girl would be too poor to buy bread, and he would have been punished severely for handing perfectly good bread for free. Perhaps it was stale? No, stale bread was precious commodity for family use. Maybe it was bread that would have been thrown away? Somehow I couldn't see this boy do that, and the girl would certainly not appreciated being given spoiled bread. Unless it was ruined, but on the whole still good to eat, such as being burnt for example, then this could have been given. A wry thought occurred to me about the possibility of the boy burning the bread on purpose, but I couldn't understand why he would do that for a stranger, especially if the consequence was getting whacked across the face with a rolling pin. I thought about how the boy helped me get washed, and how he covered for her last night. Maybe I misunderstood him. Maybe he's kind. I also wondered when this hypothetical meeting could have occurred. I knew exactly when. It would have been during that dark period of the girl's life, between the death of her old man and when she was old enough for tesserae.

Suddenly a wave of guilt and shame washed over me. If only I had been there. If only I had done something! I could have helped this family, supported them with the money I had instead of getting drunk in my house! What am I saying? I was just a stranger! Pheena and I only had one intimate moment years ago! And it's not like me and Everdeen were friends or anything! Even as adults, in the Hob when I was getting my latest batch of liquor and he would come in to trade, we may have exchanged the odd glance, but that was all!

That's all there ever was.


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own 'Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

So what do I do while the tributes are training for the next few days? Well, for the last 15 years what I did was just get drunk from the different bars along with Chaff, but before that I tried to get sponsors. Sponsors would start to come on the first actual day of the Hunger Games to sign up, but before that you had to actually find potential sponsors who were willing to have money spent on gifts for them in the Arena. You didn't just select anyone to be a sponsor. These had to be the elite of the Capitol; the wealthy and the super wealthy. Mind you, part of the reason I gave up on trying to help tributes was trying to get sponsors. Oh sure, after my games when I came freshly out of a Hunger Games the elite were interested in what I had to say, even though I had to work out as I went along what to do as a mentor, but as the years went by, defeat after defeat, fewer and fewer Capitol citizens came to the headquarters where they would sign up for sponsorship until no one came to my stand. Those who did accept me into their homes and acted like they were listening to what I had to say I think were more keen just to have a celebrity in their house, something they could brag to their friends, that Haymitch Abernathy was over, even fill me with alcohol so that I could amuse them and their friends with my drunken antics, alcohol that I gladly accepted. But these people didn't come to the headquarters either. The Capitol elite gave up on District 12 long before I did. So as you can imagine I was at a disadvantage, having not sought any sponsor for 15 years compared to other mentors, especially those from Districts 1, 2 and 4, who had more consistent wins between them and who had long cultivated a network of sponsors. So my first potential sponsor for the day had to be the wealthiest person I knew who was going to be the most open to what I had to say. I came to the house of one such potential sponsor that morning. Getting ready I knocked on the door. An Avox came to open it. I was led to a waiting area. The old lady, Attia Walker (Who preferred to be referred to as 'Atty' last time I was here) later came to greet me.

"Why, Haymitch Abernathy! What a lovely surprise seeing you here! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I couldn't stay away forever!"

We walked towards each other to kiss each other on the cheek. Before doing so, she sniffed my breath.

"Hmm. Not as strong as I expected."

I noticed another figure coming down the stairs. It was Finnick.

"Oh Finnick dear, I won't be too long."

In other words, you don't think my tributes will be worth thinking of. We'll see about that. Finnick gave me a desperate look that seemed to say _help me_.

We sat down. She sighed.

"Time has not been kind to you, my boy. I still remember the handsome young man who came to my doorstep all those years ago. Now you're a balding, chubby middle-aged man. Not that you already seemed to be growing a gut the last time I saw you. Oh well!"

The avox came over with a couple of wine glasses.

"Wine, Haymitch? Oh why am I asking, of course you do!"

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. But I needed to keep my head clear if I wanted to negotiate effectively. Mind you it would be rude to reject her offer….

So I took one glass, and sipped it rather than drink the whole thing.

"Is it not to your liking?" Attia asked.

"It's delicious," I replied.

"Well if you're not drinking the whole thing in one gulp, it means you must believe that your tributes have a chance. You know, I met your District's escort last night. And do you know what she was saying, as if trying to be clever? She said that they may come from the coal district, but if you put enough pressure on coal, you get pearls!"

Attia roared with laughter.

"Of course, no one had the heart to tell her that you only get pearls in oyster shells so we all just humoured the girl! Honestly, it's not wonder you've had little luck with tributes all these years with brainless staff like that!"

I had to suppress my anger. I may not be fond of Effie most of the time, but even I didn't like these comments Attia was saying. Nevertheless, I was counting on her to give me her sponsorship.

"I'm sure she meant diamonds."

"In District 1, they can actually make diamonds! You live in the coal district, Haymitch, have you ever known diamonds to be among the coal? Well, let's see if this year's tributes are diamonds rather than more coal. So show me!"

Attia behaved like a girl excitedly waiting for a present as I gave her the pad that had the boy and girl's stats.

"My, my. Such beautiful children. Especially the boy."

I could see her draw her finger across the boy's mouth.

"It would be such a shame to see such pretty faces get ruined. I would certainly like to keep them safe."

Yes I know exactly how you would keep them safe, you dirty old woman!

"Mind you though, the Tributes from 1 and 2 are also pretty. And they have fighting spirit too. You know, your friend Brutus came to see me last night."

Brutus. If there was one thing he wasn't it was my friend, and it seemed just like before he was one step ahead of me.

"So tell me, Haymitch. Are these two fighters too?"

"Peeta is strong. He can carry as much as 50 kg with ease."

"Oo, 50, that is impressive. Mind you Cato from District 2 looks pretty strong. And given his size could probably carry 100 kg!"

"He can wrestle."

"How well?"

"He made it into the school's championship."

"But what was his rank?"

"High."

"What was it, Haymitch?"

"…2."

"2nd. Oh dear. You know, Cato is an expect swordsman. He's also good with a spear."

It was illegal to train for the games, but that didn't stop the tributes from 1, 2 and 4 from doing so. And their potential sponsors didn't care how they honed their skills if it meant assuring them victory in the arena.

"I doubt the boy has ever used a weapon."

"Not that he's told me. He might be keeping it a secret. But I know the girl is handy with a knife. She threw one once in a wall and it got stuck right in."

"Clove from District 2 is an expert at throwing knives. Knives plural, if you've noted. Anything else?"

There wasn't anything else. Nothing else I was willing to tell her. I could tell that I was losing her interest. And why wouldn't I? All I've presented is one who's a second-rate wrestler who can carry heavy objects, and the other who threw a knife at a wall the one time. Compare that to a trained swordsman like Cato or a knife thrower like Clove then their feats evaporate. Attia sighed.

"I'm very sorry, Haymitch, but if that's all there is then-"

"She can shoot."

"-I'm sorry?"

"The girl. She can shoot. With a bow and arrow."

I meant to keep this a secret. The fact that District 1, 2 and 4 tributes train illegally may be one of the worst kept secrets, but knowing that someone outside of those districts knew how to handle a weapon might raise a few issues.

"And is she good?"

What was it that the boy said?

"She's excellent," I told her, "She can take down prey as large as deer, and her aim is so good that she can shoot something as small as a rabbit's or squirrel's eye without harming the body."

"Oh deer. The poor squirrels."

Poor squirrels? That's rich, coming from someone who watches children get slaughtered for entertainment! But even so, I got her interest.

"Very well, Haymitch. I'll consider them. Oh Castoria!"

The avox returned.

"Tell Finnick that I'll be far too busy today. Oh Haymitch. Feel free to drop by tomorrow. Me and the girls will be having a get together."

I had to suppress a smile as I nodded. That meant she was interested in what I was saying and wanted to hear more. Furthermore, it was a chance to meet more potential sponsors. I got up to leave.

"Just one more question. Where did the girl learn to use a bow and arrow? I didn't think there was much opportunity to use one in District 12."

This was the question I wanted to avoid. Fortunately, I had a few defences.

"Where did Clove learn to throw knives?"

"Well I assumed she just threw kitchen knives about. Not much to do in District 2, I suppose."

"And what about Cato? Being an expert swordsman?"

"Well he probably learnt that in training."

"Oh. Sorry, I thought you said Brutus came to you last night, before training."

Realising that I had caught her out, Atia smiled.

"Touche, Mr Abernathy. Touche."

* * *

So this is how I spent the rest of the day, buttering up potential sponsors, working first on my oldest and richest contacts before spreading outwards. Male and female, rich and super rich, young and old, they had different reasons for wanting to listen to me, whether it was because they wanted to appear generous by helping the poor unfortunate tributes (whether their concern was genuine or not), or they wanted to brag that they sponsored the winner, or even those lustful, who wanted to own them if they won. See, something that's not officially known is that attractive victors get their bodies sold to the wealthy. The most popular tribute these days is Finnick Odair. Most people believed that he has romantic flings every year in the capitol. What they don't realise is that he has in fact been sold to them to do what they want. See, he wasn't at Atia's house by choice. She was just his latest owner. I might have suffered the same fate if Snow had anyone to use against me. I felt dirty dealing with people like them, as if I was handing the tributes over for sex. Mind you, it's still their choice (And given that they're loved ones are being threatened, how could they say no?), but if it meant getting money from them to save their lives, then what does it matter where it came from? To each I talked about their strengths, even exaggerated them at times, the boy's strength and resilience, the girl's killer instincts. I was a bit more discreet with the girl's ability to shoot, and only being more specific if the sponsor had already revealed that they knew that some tributes trained so that they couldn't exactly use this information against me when I knew that they knew that tributes trained illegally.

* * *

While finding sponsors, I wondered how the tributes were doing in the training. I still remembered mine. There were two types of station, one was combat, the other surviving in the arena. I decided that the survival stations were more important. I did well at the edible insects station (Along with edible plants, already having some rudimentary knowledge of which fruit and plants were safe to eat). In fact, I grasped fairly well all of the knowledge that the trainers bestowed upon us. It was putting what I learnt into practice that was the issue, making sure that the knots were tied correctly for snares, that the shelter was set up in a way that it didn't end up falling apart, or trying to make a fire out of rubbing sticks together. Camouflage? The best I could do was cover myself with mud. What was even more annoying was how Maysilee Donner was good at every one of these! After losing my patience with the fish hooks I moved on to the combat stations. I went for the one that I knew I would have the most difficulty with. Archery. The bow and arrow had never been my friends. I tried them once before, and I ended up throwing them on the ground in frustration. But here my survival might depend on me knowing how to use them. However, even with this determination, I still had trouble using them, getting the arrow lined up, holding it back enough and aiming for my target at the same time. My arrows struck the ground several times, much to the amusement of the onlooking careers. I decided to move on after that. I was much better with axes and maces. Basically any weapon that required bashing your opponent. I was also good with a sword, which was like a giant knife. Spears and tridents required more practice, and I couldn't quite get my spear into my mannequin on the first try, instead sliding across the floor. Time to move on. I excelled at wrestling and hand to hand combat, having some practice with this, although I quickly learnt the difference with practising with someone who wasn't your friend. I left the weapon I was most comfortable with last. The knife. At first I wanted to avoid this station, so that the careers wouldn't see how good I was with them, but after watching other tributes train at this station I decided I could learn a couple of things. Indeed, I found there was more to knife fighting than just swinging it around. I also wanted to practice knife throwing. I threw a few before I finally got the target, then deliberately missed afterwards so that it looked like a fluke.

"You know, you seemed to be struggling with some of the stations," Maysilee told me after dinner.

"Oh, like you're little Miss Perfect," I retorted, thinking that her comment was an insult.

Whereas she was really good at certain stations, I noticed that she wasn't much of a fighter. Despite looking angry, she restrained herself.

"I was just going to give you some advice."

I laughed.

"Should you really be giving out advice to your competitor? What was it, by the way?"

"Try to remain calm."

Somehow, being told to remain calm only made me less calm.

"How about you try to keep your advice to yourself in future?" I snapped.

At this she lost her temper with me.

"Just what is your problem, Haymitch? Why are you such a jerk?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you think we were all here to make friends rather than kill each other?"

"Have you never heard of allies? You'll never make allies with that attitude of yours!"

"Yeah. I'm not interested in making allies."

"The careers make allies."

"And look how that turns out every year! Do you really want to make an ally with someone who will end up slitting your throat? Thanks for the advice."

I walked away.

"You know, I don't know what Mel sees in you!"

"Welcome to the club!" I shouted back.

After slamming the door I fell on my bed, fuming. After calming down, I started to think that was an odd comment she made about Mel, as if she was friendly with him, when as a rule Seam and merchant kids keep to themselves. It was even more odd that she called him Mel, when only his friends called him that. I didn't think that Mel was on friendly terms with any of the merchant kids.

Although…I thought back to his old man's funeral, and how his mom was talking to a blond haired woman…

* * *

Back in the present, at dinner I discussed with the tributes over how training went, how the other tributes fared, and if any of the game makers noticed them. I would relay a version of this information to potential sponsors over the next couple of days, bragging about how the boy excelled at hand to hand combat despite having never done it before, and that he was a master camouflager. The girl? Well, I could tell them she was good with a spear. But I also talked more openly about her archery skills, as the sponsors would just assume she displayed that during training. I also talked about how she was so good that a game maker had noticed her. At the same time, though, I told the two tributes to avoid appearing excellent, and gave them tips about what to do when together. Effie was also telling them how to act politely and gentlemanly and lady like. The boy at least was patient with us, but I could tell that between the two of us, the girl was getting surly and fed up.

* * *

About 25 years earlier, I considered Maysilee's advice despite rejecting it before. The next day, I tried to remain calm as I focused on the stations I needed practice. Eventually, I was able to make a fire with different materials. However with other stations that involved some sort of tying and knots I was still having problems. And I still couldn't get the arrow to meet its target! I did improve with spear and trident throwing, though.

At the end of the second day, I wondered if my problem wasn't that I wasn't good with delicate things. Maybe it's because I have too much anger. Well, don't I have good reasons to be angry? After everything I've suffered, having a drunk for a dad, my Ma abandoning me just for saving my little brother? And here I am having been selected, ripped from everyone I cared about, being prepared for slaughter. But then I started thinking that there must be some happy moments in my life, right? Most of them revolved around my little brother, or even my Ma before I killed my old man, when we were alone, and he was still at the Hob. I especially thought of my girl Rachelle, and the moments of bliss we had together. Mel? Hmmm. That was a complicated relationship. Whereas he was certainly my best friend, it was a friendship attached with some of the most angry moments in my memory. So the final day training, I thought of playing with my little brother, Ma reading or singing to me when I was little, or Rachelle's lips pressed on mine while tying up several types of knots. I certainly managed them that day! Later, when I went to the archery station, and as I pulled the bowstring, trying to align the arrow with my target, I closed my eyes. The memory of my last embrace with Rachelle came to mind. I opened my eyes, and let the arrow fly. It hit the bullseye.

"YES!" I shouted, making a fist pump.

Feeling a little embarrassed, I looked around. A number of onlooking careers were definitely frowning. I even saw Maysilee looking at me. I glared at her, thinking what do you want, before realising she was smiling. I quickly looked away, feeling guilty over glaring at her, before smiling back in her direction.

* * *

It was the tributes' third day. This afternoon, they would be showing their chosen skills to the game makers. I wondered how it was going. During mine, I of course chose the knife station. I decided that knife throwing would be the most impressive feat. Taking one of the twelve knives, aiming it at the target, I wondered if I should have spent more time practicing instead of being confident after the one throw. I threw the knife, and found I could still hit the target. I threw another knife, and another, and another. I started to enjoy myself, throwing the knives at different parts of the mannequin's body; head, hands, feet, heart, shoulders. By the time I got to my final knife I wondered if perhaps it was such a good idea to throw knives at non-lethal parts of the body. I turned to look at the game makers, worried that I was looking unimpressive, perhaps even missing my targets, when I saw they weren't watching. Instead they were focused on their feast. I wanted to think that I didn't care that they weren't paying attention to me, but I did! Here I was, trying to survive, and they weren't even paying attention to me! I watched them drinking and laughing, and all I could think about was my old man, or Raybearta. Drunks who are too busy drinking to take notice of the children they were supposed to take care of! I gripped the handle of my knife. Walking towards them, I was tempted to hurl the knife at them, not actually hitting one of them, but just above one of their heads, to show that I am here. But then I had a better idea. Taking the mannequin, I threw it at a weapon rack causing so much noise that it startled the game makers, looking in the direction of the racket. I roared as I charged at the mannequin, pouncing on it, stabbing it repeatedly through the neck. I looked up. I definitely had their attention now. Should there be something else I should do? Sticking out my tongue, I slid it up and down the blade.

Hmm. Perhaps the blade licking was going too far.

For a moment, the game makers just stared at me, before one of them, the head game maker I think, said "You can go now."

Getting up, I threw the knife without effort into the neck of the mannequin as I walked out.

* * *

The boy entered the room. I can tell from the way he planted himself on the chair with his arms crossed that he was fuming. Probably for the same reason my fellow district 12 tributes were upset, feeling disregarded by the game makers when they should have been paying attention to them.

I heard the door open later again, and knew it was the girl.

"Katniss!" Effie called for her.

"Katniss?" Cinna also called when there was no answer.

I turned around and caught a glimpse of the girl running down the corridor and out of view. A few moments later I heard a door slam.


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own 'the Hunger Games' or anything related.**

**A note before the next chapter. When I first came up with this story, it was before I heard anything about the prequel, and when I believed the series was wrapped up with nothing else coming. Whereas I've tried to avoid writing anything that contradicts what happens in the trilogy, 'The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes' has made a different take on Panem's early history from what I imagined. Although I plan to incorporate aspects of it in any unfinished chapters, I'm just going to continue with what I came up with.**

* * *

Effie and I looked at each other. At once we went for Katniss's door. It had been bolted shut.

"Katniss, honey," Effie knocked on the door, "Are you okay?"

"Go away!" She shouted.

She sounded upset.

"Come on, Sweetheart, I'm sure it didn't go as bad as you think!" I tried, knocking myself.

"I SAID GO AWAY!"

I turned to Effie. What the hell happened down there? I remember how upsetting the game makers' indifference to the 12 tributes could be. After he returned, Matt Rayburn had taken out his anger by throwing some of the ornaments about, while Leslie Herlihy had burst into tears. Maysilee was the only one to maintain some composure, although I could tell that she was as angry as the rest of us. But this reaction was definitely extreme! Effie gave me a look that asked what should we do? I just gave her a shrug, as if to say what we can do? I thought it was best that we leave her alone until she had calmed down. We returned to the living room, to find Peeta in front of us.

"Is Katniss ok?"

OK seriously, what was WRONG with this boy? That's not to say that the odd tribute didn't show at least some concern for another, but this consistent much wasn't normal!

"She'll be OK," I told him, "She just needs a moment."

The boy looked in the direction of her room.

"Maybe I should talk to her-"

I placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Trust me, boy, the best thing you can do right now is to give her some space."

Eventually he accepted my decision, and went back to the living room.

We didn't see the girl again until dinner time, when Effie decided to let her know. To my relief, the girl finally rejoined us. I could tell from her face that she had been crying, but was doing her best to conceal that.

After making small talk, eventually I asked the question.

"Alright, how were you?"

The boy told me how he threw around the weights until he was told to go.

"And what did you do, Sweetheart?"

"I shot an arrow at the game makers."

There was silence. She continued saying that she shot an arrow at the big at their banquet. So that's why she was so upset! She must have thought that by doing so she had messed up her chances in the arena, or that her family would be punished. I thought back to my own experience, and how I was tempted to throw my weapon at the game makers. If I was good with a bow and arrow, I probably would have shot at them myself, at one of the bottles they were holding in their hand before he had a chance to take another gulp. It was only my idea of throwing a mannequin to get their attention before stabbing it that stopped me from doing so. I don't think the use of an arrow would have had the same effect.

I assured her that it was no big deal, that they wouldn't arrest her as they can't replace her now, and that they wouldn't punish her family as they would need to make what happened in the session public, that the most they would do would make her life hell in the arena, which the boy mentions that they've already promised to do, and I agreed with him. The girl seemed to feel a lot better after that. I then started to chuckle, asking what their reactions were. She told me some were shocked, others terrified, or ridiculous, and that one of them fell into a punch bowl. I couldn't help but laugh. Honestly, I would have given anything to have seen the look on their faces! It made me wish I had used my weapon against them as well, but if I did that, then they would have probably set up some protection to prevent future tributes from doing the same, and the girl wouldn't have had the chance to do what she did!

After dinner, we went to the sitting room to watch the scores. The boy got an 8. That was good. The girl got an 11. An 11! The highest possible score given!

I thought back to my own score. Mat Rayburn got a 6. Which was okay. Then came mine. 10. A 10! I didn't think that any district 12 tribute had ever been given a 10 before, at least not in my lifetime! My score caused great excitement as everyone gathered around me, congratulating me.

"Way to go, Haymitch!"

Mat instantly came to my side, clapping my shoulder.

"I knew you could do it!" Said Maysilee.

"Well done," Said Leslie.

"Excellent work," Said Mrs Charm.

Everyone was so focused on me, that the girls almost missed their own scores. Leslie got a 3, whereas Maysilee shockingly got a 2. I expected her to at least get an 11, with how well she did with making snares or camouflaging. I guess they weren't paying attention. But the odd thing was that no one seemed to care about how low their scores were, or that I had a score higher than them, which made me a threat.

"Oh it's not like I actually thought that I was going to survive this thing," admitted Maysilee.

"Me neither," Said Leslie.

"But I'm glad that there is a chance that someone from District 12 can win!" Said Mat.

I looked around, at the beaming looks everyone was giving me. Huh. So this is what it was like to be popular. It was a somewhat unsettling feeling. But I started to take into heart what everyone was saying. For the first time since I was chosen, I was thinking, maybe I can survive this thing!

Maybe I do have a-

CLAP.

CLAP.

CLAP.

CLAP.

We all turned to the source of the clapping. Raybearta Wallace had entered the room. I don't think I've seen her since the first day on the train. There was something very disingenuous about the way she was clapping. It sounded almost – sarcastic?

"Well, well, well done, a 10. That's very - impressive."

I frowned.

"You don't sound impressed," I told her.

"Well it's certainly not an 11 or even a 12, but still it is a pretty high score."

"Yes, it is a very high score!"

Mrs Charm at once stood up and walked to where Raybearta was standing.

"A score that's generally only awarded to tributes from district 1, 2 and 4, wouldn't you agree, Ms Wallace?"

"Oh yes it's certainly in that range. I'm sure he'll make perfect competition for them. Before one of them slits his throat."

"Now now, Miss Wallace, there's no need to dishearten the boy!"

"I just don't want his mind to start running off with this idea that he actually has a chance! You think you're special, boy? Just because you're the first tribute in a long time to get a high score? Let me tell you something. You're not. Plenty of tributes in my day got 10s, as well as 8s and 9s, even an 11! And every one of them is dead! The game is rigged after all! The game is rigged," She muttered as she slowly turned around and walked back down the corridor to her room.

For the first time since I had been chosen, I actually had hope that I could survive, and it had been snuffed out.

I looked down the corridor.

By her!

My fists clenched.

"Now Mr Abernathy, you shouldn't take any notice to what Miss Wallace said- Mr Abernathy, where are you going?"

Getting up, I followed Raybearta down the corridor before she had a chance to disappear.

"JUST WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

Stopping, she slowly turned around.

"Pardon?"

"The first time you show up after the first day, it's to tell me that I have no chance?"

"I'm just helping you to accept your inevitable demise."

Ugh. It was awful, having my own awful words thrown back at me. Smiling, she staggered towards me, swinging that bottle in her hand.

"What, did you actually think that you would be going home?"

How long had she been standing there, listening to our conversation?

"Not nice, is it? Having to hear your own words said to you?"

"Oh well you sure showed me, thank you so much for giving me a taste-"

Smashing her bottle against the wall, she pinned me to it and brought up the bottle to my neck, inches away from piercing the skin.

"If I was a tribute you would be dead right now! Tell me, boy, did your youth make any difference? Did your strength? Did your score?"

It was shocking how the look in her eyes, her expression had changed, one minute they weren't focused, and now they were. I could see from the deadly stare she was giving me that she could kill me right now if she wanted to! Eventually she let go. I slid to the floor, gasping for breath, grasping my neck. I looked up, seeing her looking down on me.

"If you could be killed by an old lady, then I don't see how you're supposed to survive against the careers. Do you know what the difference is, between you and them? They have been trained to kill from the moment they could hold a weapon. What have you been trained all your life to do?"

I struggled to stand up, still rubbing my neck.

"I – I can fight!"

"Please!" Raybearta laughed, "You might have sparred with your friend, but that is not the same as being professionally trained, to show no mercy to your opponent! This isn't your friend or an old drunk you'll be facing, these careers are young and strong and they have been trained to kill you."

She bent down so we were at eye level.

"Don't think for even one second that just because they gave you an equal score that's equal to them that you are their equal. Because you're not. You're not a lion. You are a house cat. But those 12 you'll be facing in the arena are lions, and sharks, and wolves, the rest of you are merely prey to them. But here's the thing; just because a rabbit is a wolf's natural prey it doesn't mean that every rabbit falls victim. Plenty of rabbits survive every year, and do you know how they do that? Because they know that they are no wolves."

"So what do you expect me to do? If I see the career pack, just run?"

"If you see someone who you know is stronger and more capable than you, and if you value your life, then yes."

"Well, that may be fine for most rabbits, but what happens if a rabbit is cornered by a wolf, what then?"

"Well it's a good thing they have those big teeth then!"

Raybeart turned and walked away again. I could still feel the burn around my neck.

"Crazy drunk bitch!"

Stopping again, she turned to look at me.

"Got a problem against crazy people, do you? Or drunks? As for bitches, well, you're hardly pleasant yourself."

"I have a problem with people who go off to enjoy themselves when there should be children to look after!"

"Take a sniff of that bottle."

She looked down at the other half of the bottle on the floor.

"Go on. Sniff it."

I did. After picking it up, avoiding the others shards I sniffed it. I almost wished I hadn't been so eager, because I almost passed out at the smell, moving it away from me.

"How can you drink this stuff?"

"Wrong question. You should be asking why."

"What?"

"No, not what, why. Why do I drink this stuff? Why does anyone drink? You've seen the other victors. Tell me boy, do they look happy to you? That they are enjoying themselves? And I'm not talking about the District 2 victors, or even 1, I'm talking about the non career victors, those who have not been bred to kill?"

I thought about it. Now that I thought about it, a lot of them looked ill and wasted, I guessed from the drugs they took, but I always assumed that was because they got sucked into the lifestyle of a celebrity.

"Maybe you should be a bit more sensitive towards drunks," Raybearta warned me, "Cos if you do survive this thing, then chances are, you'll become one yourself."

"No!"

That horrified me more than dying in the arena.

"No, I won't!"

"No? Then perhaps morphling will be your poison? Or maybe you won't need anything at all if you end up losing your mind in the arena? And if you do survive the years with your mind and your health intact, there is still another obstacle you'll have to face."

"And what's that?"

"Ever notice how the attractive victors always seem to have so many lovers, and how they don't last long, how they whore themselves out to the capitol elite. That's because they have, but not by choice, well it is, but it's not much of a choice. You see, they have been sold into prostitution, to the highest bidders, and a handsome boy like you, you'll have a fair price too."

"No," I shook my head, "I wouldn't-"

"You will. Because every time you say 'no', every time you refuse to go through, they will kill someone you care about."

Someone I cared about. I thought of Larie, and Ma, and Rachelle. And Mel. My thoughts drifted back to Rachelle, how it would feel if I was in the arms of another woman, that if I didn't she would die.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"All of you tributes are so eager to live, and so fearful if you don't, but maybe what you should be asking yourselves is if it will be worth living after this?"

I laughed.

"Is this the pep talk you give to all of your tributes?"

"What did you expect from a mentor, hmm? That I would tell you nice things? Give you grand, sage advice? Hold your hand throughout the whole thing?"

"I don't expect anything from you!"

"Liar, you expect everything from me. That's why you're so angry, that I'm neglectful so you're using your anger to numb your hurt feelings."

"Oh, you think you know me so well?"

"Of course I don't know you, Haymitch! Just as you don't know any of the other tributes! Do you actually think that any of those scores you saw are an actual reflection of their true abilities? Not everyone shows off what they are truly capable of."

"I – I know that-"

"Another lie, or did you think you were the only one clever enough to hide their own talents? Why do you even care what score they gave you? You already know what you're capable of, and you've seen what the careers can do. But after all, that's not the purpose of the scoring."

I already knew this.

"It's to attract sponsors."

"Smart boy. There is a brain in there, after all."

"So what you're saying is, the scores don't matter cos you're not gonna get us sponsors."

"No, I'm not."

"Because you don't care about us."

"Because I stopped caring. For twenty years, I did my best, trying to help you kids survive, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make a single one of you a victor, not even my - that's something else you're gonna have to worry about if you survive. You'll be made a mentor, forced to help other kids survive. And one day, when it becomes so hard, that you can't take it any more, you'll think distancing yourselves from them will be easier."

"No. You're wrong. I won't become like you! I'll never give up on a tribute, no matter how many die!"

Raybearta smirked.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Haymitch. You make a habit of that, chances are you'll end up agreeing to almost anything, and keep your word to nothing."

She walked away.

"Thank you! Thank you so much for your grand wisdom!"

She raised what remained of her bottle as if to say "You're welcome."

When I returned to join the others, Mrs Charm told me that Miss Wallace was completely out of order for the things she said, and that she would have a word with her. I couldn't help thinking that maybe she had a point. Maybe I wasn't the careers' equal, just because my score was in the same range as theirs. And honestly, how did I get that score? Just by throwing a mannequin about and stabbing it in the neck. The game makers likely just gave me that score cos they thought I would make good competition against the careers. They didn't see what I was really capable of. No, they didn't see what I was truly capable of. They didn't see my knife throwing abilities, which I should have been graded on, which should have had a more worthy score! Suddenly I felt better. I do already know what I'm capable of, and how I would fare against the careers, and I didn't need the game makers to tell me that. As I thought of this as everyone was congratulating the boy and the girl, I knew what Ray would say. An 8 and an 11? Very impressive. You'd make good competition for the careers. But don't think for a moment that means you would win. However, I just congratulated them like the others. I did tell the girl that a factor in her high score was likely her temper and that they would like some tributes with some heat, but I said it in a way that it was uplifting rather than meaningless like what Ray did with me. Perhaps she was right about me when she said I was no lion.

Maybe I really am just a softie at heart.

* * *

The next day, Effie and I were discussing how to prepare the tributes for the interview the following one. We agreed that she would teach them presentation this morning, while I would teach them content the afternoon.

"You know," Effie smiled, "I actually missed this."

"Missed what?" I asked, puzzled.

"This. Us, working together. We used to be a good team. Didn't we, Haymitch?"

Did we? I couldn't remember. I do remember when she first joined though. Eula had introduced her as Euphemia Trinket, and that she would be taking over as escort next year, while this year she would be shadowing her. I remember her being all so professional, even though she preferred to be called 'Effie', holding out her hand to shake.

"I look forward to working with you, Mr Abernathy."

I couldn't help but grin.

"We'll see about that," I told her, betting that she wouldn't last the year, or the next without Eula. And yet here she still was.

Now that I thought about it, I guess we were, working together to help the tributes survive, devising a strategy for them. I remember after the end of the 59th hunger games, I asked her if she could get me the tapes of the first 29 games, which she was able to do.

"It's just that I have missed you-r partnership."

I felt like things were starting to become awkward.

"I've still been around, Effie."

"No you haven't! You've been off getting drunk somewhere, leaving me to deal with the tributes!"

I guess it wasn't just the tributes that I had abandoned. I had abandoned her as well. I still remember when that was. It was halfway through the 60th hunger games. The remaining District 12 survivor, Harper, had been caught in one of the game makers' traps underground, and he was trying to get out. He already had two close brushes with death. I was sure that he could get through this one. He was then vaporised. I felt like I had been vaporised alongside him. The canon boomed signifying his death, but I had already got up and left my booth in the control room.

"Haymitch? Haymitch, where are you going?" Effie asked.

But I wasn't listening. I entered my room in at headquarters, and cried out as I threw my bottle at the wall. Then I instantly regretted my decision, as I had nothing to drink, so I just cradled my head in my hands. Later I heard the door open, and I knew that it was Effie.

"It's okay, Haymitch, I know that this year was rather, um disappointing, but I'm sure we can learn from this and do better next year-"

"I can't do this anymore, Effie."

"What?"

"I can't do this anymore. I just can't do it!"

"Do what?"

"Mentoring, what do you think?"

"Well, you're going to have to. You're the District 12 mentor."

"I don't care! I'm done!"

"So what, you're just not going to try anymore? You're just going to go off get drunk or something?"

"That sounds like a plan."

"But who is supposed to help them?"

"Like I've been so helpful. She was from the town you know."

"I'm sorry?"

"Morian Crane. The girl this year. She was from the town. A daughter of the undertakers."

I was so sure that she could win. Yet a third way into the games, the stup id girl decided to undress and bathe in a lake she came across, unaware of the tribute from 2 coming up from behind her, and with her weapons discarded, she was helpless as she was hacked to pieces. It didn't help that that night I dreamt of going to the bathtub, and when I pulled the curtain aside I saw Morian there, screaming at me, terrified of me. As if I was the one who had killed her…

I chuckled.

"You know, it's been a while since a merchant kid was chosen. The last time this happened, and I tried to express sympathy to his family, do you know what his dad said to me? "You took such good care of Maysilee. So why couldn't you do the same for her cousin?" I've been banned from the sweet shop ever since. Guess I'll be banned from the undertakers too, now. I'll probably be thrown into a ditch somewhere."

"Haymitch," Effie took my hands, "Don't talk like that-"

"Well why not?" I pushed her hands away.

"Haymitch, there have been winners before. District 12 can win again."

"How? Remember when you sent me those tapes? I saw how District 12 used to fare. You know, Raybearta Wallace told me all about how the tributes in her day were great. I thought it was just one of those 'good old days' lines that old folk like to brag on about, but it's true! They were incredible! They were strong, smart, resourceful, and every one of them is dead!"

"She didn't. She survived."

"And how are we ever supposed to have another victor again if the tributes don't even fare compared to that generation?"

"You survived, Haymitch. If you can, then anyone can."

Yes. I survived. Because I did something that, had I known the consequences, I wouldn't have dreamed of doing.

"Effie, you should just go."

"What?"

"It's like you said. I'm stuck in this mentor role. But not you. You can still escape. So just go. Get away from the Hunger Games as far as you can, and don't look back, and …try to forget about all this."

At once Effie stood up.

"You may be willing to give up on these kids, but I'm not."

"Oh don't act like you actually care about us!"

Effie went pink.

"Maybe you would have a victor if you didn't get so drunk all the time!"

And at once she stormed out.

"I stayed sober. They died," I muttered, so why did it matter if I was drunk or not? Better to be drunk than sober. I ordered another bottle and to have the mess I made cleaned up.

Things between me and Effie were never the same again. This year was the first time in nearly fifteen when we had been amiable again.

The boy was the first to join us.

"Hey um, Haymitch, is it ok if I was to be coached separately?"

"Whatever for?" Effie asked, "Has something happened between you two?"

"No! No," Peeta shook his head, "It's just – I'd just prefer to be coached privately. If that's OK with you two. If it's not going to mess up the team image you want."

Effie and I looked at each other. She seemed more concerned than me. I didn't ask why the change of heart, as before he had no problem with being coached together. Perhaps as they were drawing nearer, he felt it was best to distance himself as much as possible from his fellow tribute, who would end up being his rival. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she gained a higher mark than him?

"I don't see how them being tutored privately should affect their public image, do you?"

"No."

"Okay, then boy, if that's what you want. So who do you want to go through first?"

"Oh, I think I'll take Katniss this afternoon."

Which left the boy to me. As we concluded this the girl walked in, noticing us huddled together, and asked why. I explained to her Peeta's sudden change of heart. As usual her expression was unreadable, but I had the feeling that she was unhappy about this. Which surprised me as I was sure she would be relieved to have some space from him after being forced together against her will. She almost seemed to feel…betrayed?

The boy was mine to tutor in the morning. It went well. Really well, in fact. The boy had a natural charm to him, plus he had this sense of humour that was hilarious. It's funny. During those hours, asking about his home life, I felt like I had connected with him. Far more than I did with any other tribute, heck any person for a long time. Then I had to remind myself not to get too attached, as there was still a chance that he would not make it.

"You know what, you're fine. You seem to have this covered."

I got up.

"Just do what you did with me and you'll be fine."

I turned to leave.

"Um, Haymitch?"

I looked at him.

"What?"

"There's something I need to ask you."

"Well spit it out."

Whatever it was, it seemed he had trouble talking about it. I wondered if this was why he wanted to be coached privately.

"During the interview, what do I say if they ask about my love life?"

Ah, that. I had asked this question before, asked him if he had a girlfriend, and he said no. I asked him if there was anyone he had a crush on, and he mentioned there was no girlfriend. I moved on after that point. But now that I thought about it Flickerman was sure to grill him over this fact if he didn't get a satisfactory answer.

"OK, let's back track a little."

I sat back down.

"Say I'm Caesar Flickerman. I asked you if you have a girlfriend, and you say…?"

"No, I don't."

"He's not going to believe that. 'Handsome boy like you' he'll say, 'there must be someone!' And he'll press you for a name."

"But there isn't!"

"Why?"

I was actually becoming curious myself. Good looking, confident boy, and a member of a merchant family. He could have any girl he wanted.

"You're just not into girls, I take it?" I grinned.

The boy understood what I was implying.

"What?" He seemed quite alarmed, "No, I do like girls!"

"But you've never asked one out? Or never took up on any of their offers?"

"It's just…"

I could tell that this was something personal to the boy.

"Look, boy, if you don't want to talk about your love life, then just make someone up. Something that will stop Flickerman from prying."

The boy seemed to be considering his options.

"Well, what if it's true?"

"What is what true?"

"What if there is someone I like…but I never had the chance tell her how I feel?"

Hmmm. Unrequited love? This would be something that would interest the capital. I could tell that this was something personal to the boy, something he didn't want to discuss in front of the girl.

But he wanted to discuss it with me?

"You never asked her?"

"I've been…too nervous to ask," He blushed.

I found this hard to believe. The boy has always given the impression of being able to speak with anyone, even those who would cheer to see him die in the arena. So why would this girl be a problem?

"Tell me about her," I asked.

I could tell that the boy was wary about talking about the subject.

"Look boy, this is definitely a question that Flickerman will be asking you. But like I said, make someone up if you don't want to talk about your actual crush."

"No. No. I do want to."

And so for the next he talked all about this incredible girl, someone he's had a crush on since he was five. Strong, beautiful, fearless. As he went on and on about her, I wondered who it was he could possibly be talking about. What girl in District 12 could possibly leave this boy tongue tied? Who could possibly be out of his league? My first thoughts drifted to the daughter of the mayor, but then I started thinking perhaps it's one of the female peacekeepers. Certainly from the way he described her she sounded like a peacekeeper. Yes, a peacekeeper would make sense, even more if it was an older woman.

"She sounds like quite a girl."

"She is!"

He started to laugh.

"You know, it's funny, until a few days ago, I didn't think she knew I exi-"

At once the boy stopped talking, as if he had given something away. A few days ago? What happened a few days ago? The only other person from home he's had contact with in the last few days was-

My jaw dropped. I looked in the direction of where the girl was, the girl that the boy was talking about, currently being tutored by Effie, and looked back at him incredulously. He had gone red.

Now it all made sense! Why he had covered for her, his concern for her, and why he would have risked a beating to give her a loaf of bread, and why he wanted to be coached separately all of a sudden! I should have seen it before, the way he complimented her on the first day, the small details about her he had noted.

The boy had a crush on his fellow tribute.


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

Roaring with laughter was probably not the most sensitive reaction to an accidental reveal of being in love with someone who was ultimately their competition in a death match. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't help but laugh at the sheer tragedy of the whole thing, of the poor luck, that this boy, who's had a crush on this girl for who knows how long, that he's been too nervous to talk to, only to end up being chosen as her fellow tribute, where only one of them could live. The boy went even redder (for other reasons). I patted him on the leg.

"That is some bad luck you have there, boy!" I told him, and I meant it.

Oh if only the capitol knew! Doomed love. It's the sort of thing they would eat up!

Wait a minute.

It IS the sort of thing they would eat up!

My mind started to whirl, as I thought of it, of the boy confessing his love for his fellow tribute, how the capitol audience would feel, would weep for the poor boy. It would put District 12 on the map. Potential sponsors would pay attention to District 12, become invested in the boy's romance. They would send gifts so that the 'story' would last longer, or for the girl, wanting her to live as much as the boy did. And if it so happened if they were the final two in the arena… Being genuine friends forced to fight to the death was one thing, but as lovers?

But wait, they wouldn't be lovers, would they? After all, these were just the boy's feelings, not the girl's. But if he made his feelings clear, and she heard it, people would start to wonder if perhaps she reciprocates his feelings, they would debate about it, and that would be enough. I explained my plan to the boy.

"Really?" He brightened, "You think this will help her, too?"

Well that proved it. He definitely was in love with her if he valued her survival as well as his, maybe even more than his.

"Oh it will definitely help her, too!"

"And, do you think people will believe it?"

"Trust me boy, you'll have no problem convincing the capitol about your love! Course," I glanced in the girl's direction, "It's her who will need more convincing."

Most likely, she would probably consider any public expression of love as just a strategy he came up with, possibly with my help. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she's been considering the numerous ways he's been planning to kill her from the moment they were chosen, when the exact opposite was true.

So for the rest of our session I decided to coach the boy as to how to express his feelings, and more importantly, how to portray the girl. At first I asked him if he knew the girl had any other admirers.

"Well, there is this tall boy that she hangs around with. And I think one of my friends might have expressed some interest in her-"

"So if Caesar asks you if she's with someone, say that a lot of boys like her."

"But- that's not exactly true."

"It doesn't matter! You have to sell her! Making her an object of desire, not just for you, but for others, will make her appear that more desirable, and far more likely to get sponsors! Now, earlier you told me that you didn't think she thought you existed."

"Well, I didn't, not until that conversation where she talked about seeing me at the market and knew that I came second in wrestling and…"

I got that he was also thinking of that other incident.

"Forget that. Tell him that you didn't think she even knew you were alive until the reaping."

"But, that's not true either! How is that supposed to help her?"

"It's to help yourself! Remember Boy, you need to garner the Capitol's sympathy."

"Isn't the fact that we're fighting to the death enough?"

"No," I flatly told him.

"But saying that she never knew I existed, won't that make her seem cold?"

"Not cold. Just oblivious to the fact that out of all the hundreds of boys in District 12 there's been one who's been in love with her forever."

I could tell that the boy wasn't comfortable with this, exaggerating the number of admirers the girl had or how ignorant she had been to his existence.

"Maybe she should let Katniss know what we're planning."

"Boy, this is supposed to be you declaration of love to her, you can't do that if you've already done it!"

"Yeah, but, I don't have to tell her it's how I really feel! I can just say it's just an act-"

"Trust me, boy, you'll get a better reaction if it's genuine! Besides, it's only in case Caesar presses on you about the issue, and only if he says something like if you win this thing, you go back home and ask her! It's just in case, right?"

"Right."

The boy didn't sound convinced. I patted him on the shoulder.

"Now let's go get some lunch."

"Haymitch?"

I looked at him.

"Can we please keep this between us? I mean it is just in case the situation arises, right?"

I wasn't sure that my other teammates would approve of withholding such a revolutionary plan from the rest of them, but I could tell looking at the boy's face that he did not want anyone else to know about his feelings.

"Alright."

We joined Effie and the girl for lunch. Effie seemed to be in a bad mood. That was a bad omen. I wondered what could have happened between her and the girl. She couldn't have been as bad as I was! I remember how during the preparation every instruction Mrs Charm would give me in order to present myself to the Capitol, I would do the exact obvious. When she told me to sit up straight I slouched. When she told me to keep my legs uncrossed I crossed them. When she told me to keep my arms on the arms of the chair I'd fold them. When she told me to make eye contact I'd look away. When she'd tell me to shake hands I'd keep mine. When she told me to smile I grimaced. After the umpteenth phrase where I refused to smile she finally lost patience with me.

"I am trying to help you!" She shouted at me, standing up, "Don't you understand the importance of presenting yourself to the capitol-"

"OH WHY DOES IT MATTER?" I shouted, standing up myself, "What's the point? The only point of all this is to get sponsors, but Ms Wallace isn't going to bother getting us any! She doesn't care! So what's the point of being presentable?"

She gave me a concerned look. I realised that my eyes were starting to feel moist.

"Not that I care."

At once I sat back down with my arms crossed, my eyes fixed on the ground. I felt a hand on my knee.

"Haymitch."

I looked up at Mrs Charm. This was the first time she addressed me by my first name.

"I care."

I laughed.

"No you don't! Or what, are you trying to tell me that you're not like the rest of the capitol, who take enjoyment in our deaths? And if you do care about our survival it's only because you want to boast about how you have a victor!"

"Well, regardless of my motives, I do care. I'm not going to abandon you to your fate. And I'm not going anywhere."

I chuckled.

"You say that now, Eula, but twenty years after this conversation, you retired. You left me, just like everyone else."

"Keep you mind focused on the present, Mr Abernathy!"

Mrs Charm stood up.

"Now then, do you want to guide Katniss through the interview now?"

I was startled by the question.

"What?"

"I said do you want to guide Katniss through the interview now?" Effie asked me.

I blinked as I found myself back in the present.

"Um, yes, give me a moment."

I couldn't help but notice the looks that the boy were giving her, now that I knew how he felt about her. And I couldn't help but wonder if the girl felt the same way. Unlikely. Then again, I thought about their conversation before, how she had described his activities in the market as accurately as the details she would note while in the woods, or little things like being second in the wrestling championship. And then there was that line, about her being a survivor because of him...

When we went into the other room and I sat her down, I started to examine her, wondering what angle to take with her.

"What?" She eventually asked.

"I'm just wondering what to do with you."

"What's Peeta's strategy?" She asked, "Or am I not allowed to ask?"

Her sharp words were irritating me.

"Likeable," I tell her, "Whereas every time you open your mouth you come across as moody and irritable."

"I do not!" She retorted, only proving my point.

I tried to ask questions about her, like her home life, but she only refused to answer, and by the end of it she was shouting her answers.

"Alright!" I told her, telling her that not only does she come across as sullen and hostile, but I don't know anything about her.

I reminded her that the Capital wants to know her.

"But I don't want to know them! They're already taking my future, I can't let them have the things that mattered to me in the past, too!"

"Well then make something up!" I tell her.

Didn't she think I knew how she felt? That I, out of all people, knew how it felt, to be paraded in front of people like a prized pet? But at the same time you can own them. You can have them eating out of your hand.

"I'm not good at lying," She told me.

No. I guess that's the difference between her and me, despite the fact that we both wear masks. My mask is based on lying, on deflecting how I truly feel. Hers is based on not saying anything at all. And the problem with that is at least my mask had some character, had something that people could like. It was very hard to feel anything for a mask that was expressionless.

"Well you're going to have to learn fast, because right now you have as much charm as a dead slug!"

I realised I went too far, even for me, from the look she gave me. So I tried a different approach. I asked her to try gushing. But when it became clear she couldn't gush, I asked her to try cocky, which was my approach, but she just didn't have the arrogance. Then we tried ferocious, but she was too vulnerable. I started drinking around witty. Funny. Sexy. Mysterious, which I was so sure would be my best bet!

"I give up!" I said, "Just do your best and try to make sure that the audience doesn't know how openly you despise them."

I walked out of there. The same hopelessness that had plagued me for years had gripped me again. I meant what I said when I said she was shining like a star, but if her interview was anything like it was with me, then it meant that star will come crashing down and explode on impact. At least the boy was interviewable. And then there is that secret plan we have, that could probably improve her chances. Just as well.

The girl didn't join us for dinner. I was glad that she didn't. It was times like these that I was glad that I never had children, even if I wasn't an alcoholic. Oh sure, I was fine with little kids, but teenagers? Shudder. Moody, irritable, prone at the slightest provocation or the wrong word could set them off, only made much worse with the threat of their impending doom. And consider that my job is to mentor them! A couple of weeks was enough for me. I wouldn't want to be responsible for them for their entire adolescence! Not all teenagers were bad, mind you, but a lot of them were, and this girl was the worst. And considering that I have mentored nearly fifty of them, that's saying something! Surly, aggressive, moody. It was hard to believe that she was Everdeen's daughter. Everdeen! A guy who was always so patient. Sure he got angry too, but with reason! Yet it was clear that whereas the girl had his skin, hair and eye colour, as well as his archery and hunting skills, she had inherited none of his good nature. Her ma's? Forget it. I stabbed my steak repeatedly with a knife. It's weird, but if I have to say who she does remind me of, it's me. It makes me wonder if I did have children, like a daughter, she would have grown up to be just like me. If that was so then I was glad that I never had children, as we would have probably driven each other crazy! No. It's not just me she reminds me of. That moment where she almost stabbed my hand earlier. That look she gave me, that killer look. She reminded me of Ray. bearta. In fact, that moment earlier reminded me so much of the arguments we used to have. It made me wonder if she had come back in the form of this girl just to torment me some more. Wouldn't put it past her to do something like that. Hmm. So this girl is like if me and Ray had a - at that point I ran to the bathroom to vomit, as the thought of me and Ray having a baby made me want to puke.

The next day it was the prep teams' turn to make the tributes look presentable. Cinna noted mine and Effie's bad moods.

"I take it it didn't go so well with Katniss?"

"You could say that," I told him.

"Do you mind if I have a go?"

"Knock yourself out," I shrugged.

It annoyed me that this fashion designer thought he would have better luck with the girl. After all, he wasn't her mentor. I was!

When we all met up again, the girl complimented Effie. I guess she had forgiven her for whatever happened in their session yesterday. But I noticed she made effort not to look at me. I guess she was still mad at me, even though I only did my best to help her.

OK, I admit I went too far by saying she had the charm of a dead slug.

"What did you tell her?" I asked Cinna before we took our seats.

"I told her to be herself," he told me.

Be herself? That's the last thing I would have told her to do! When she took her place on with Caesar Flickerman, I really thought that the star would fall on the stage and set everything ablaze.

Luckily it didn't go as disastrously as I dreaded. Sure, it wasn't the best interview, but it was passable at least! Except for one moment, when Caesar brought up her sister. The girl talked about her, about how she loved her more than anything in the world. You could tell it was hard for her to talk about her, but she was able to anyway. She told everyone how her sister asked her to try to really win, and she swore she would. I choked a little when she said that. Probably because I knew what it was like to have a younger sibling, to be willing to do anything to protect them, but I could tell from the silence of the crowd that the capitol were hooked on every word. When her time was up I let out a sigh of relief, and the applause she got long afterwards was very assuring. I guess being herself wasn't as self-destructive as I feared. I only wished that she could have been like that with me.

Then came the boy's interview, and I knew I didn't have to worry about him. It went well as expected. The only thing that worried me was that Caesar wouldn't ask him what I wanted him to ask, or at least not press the issue, but ask him he did, and as expected, Caesar pressed him for details after the boy denied it. And as practised, the boy mentioned his someone, talked about how he didn't think she knew he existed, how she has a number of admirers. And as expected, you could hear the sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Next expected on what Caesar would say.

"You win this thing, you go home and tell her how you feel. She can't turn you down after that, am I right?"

And there it was!

"I don't think that's going to help me."

"Why not?"

I told the boy to act confidentially but sombre, but honestly this was better, when he went red, as he stammered, that he struggled to get the words out. It made it look more authentic. Which of course, it was.

"Because - because - because she came here with me!"

I knew that with the deafening cries of the audience that they had been won over. District 12 was now far ahead of everyone else. I also took a look at the girl. Her mouth was open, half surprised and half protesting. Blushing, she looked down at the floor.

Afterwards, people gave me their weeping condolences over my poor tributes' situation. The description 'Star-Crossed lovers' gained currency all around.

It went better than I could have hoped. Even Effie was in tears.

"Oh, oh that poor boy!" She cried, dabbing her eyes.

Cinna and Portia, however, gave me a couple of cynical looks.

"Did you know that was going to happen?" Cinna asked me in the elevator, "About what Peeta would say about Katniss?"

I grinned.

"He might have mentioned it to me in confidence."

The doors opened. Inside we saw Peeta on the floor, bloodied pieces of urn everywhere, with Katniss towering above him.

"What happen? Did you fall?" Effie asked.

"Yeah. After she shoved me."


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

Whenever my brother was hurt, I would boil with rage, wanting nothing more than to rip apart the person who did him harm. I felt a bit of that anger now.

"Shoved him?" I confronted the girl.

Apparently she did not take kindly to the boy's confession of love to her to all of Panem, feeling as if she had been humiliated. She accused me of being behind it all.

"No, it was my idea!" The boy told her, "Haymitch just coached me over how to do it."

Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. It had been the boy who told me about actually telling people about a girl he had a crush on if the subject rose (even if I'm pretty sure he originally wanted to avoid telling who it was exactly he had a crush on!) I told the girl that she was a fool if she didn't realise that what he did had given her an advantage.

"He made me look weak!" The girl retorted.

"He made you look desirable!" I snapped back, telling her how everyone was calling them the star-crossed lovers.

"But we're not star-crossed lovers," She told me.

I had just about had enough of this girl. I slammed her against the wall, I shouted at her, anything to make her see sense! She pushed me away, still defiant. Thankfully Cinna stepped in, and managed to convince her. The situation abated, we sat down for dinner, and watched the replay of the interviews. The boy's hands were bleeding so badly after falling into broken pieces of urn that he had to be taken out to get bandaged. Although his hands could be repaired, nevertheless he'll be disadvantaged in the arena. I couldn't help but feel responsible. I understood why the girl was so angry, and it was something I should have anticipated. This girl, who had for so long hid her feelings, concealed what she was thinking, and this one boy's declaration of love for her caused her mask to fall off, exposing them to the rest of the world. If someone had made me drop my own mask at that age, exposing me as anything more than a cocky, laid back guy who didn't take anything seriously, I would have punched the person too!

After the two left (and I gave them some last words of parting wisdom), leaving just the grown-ups in the room, Cinna looked at me.

"So, was it really the boy's idea?" He asked.

"Well he certainly wanted to talk about his crush," I told him.

"And the reason none of us were in on what you were planning because?"

"Because the boy told me this in confidence," I grinned.

Cinna looked furious at me. As far as anyone knew, this was all just a strategy we came up with, and I would not betray the boy's trust, that this was how he actually felt.

"You think this is funny? Is this a joke to you? You just went ahead with this big revolutionary plan of yours without consulting the rest of us! And you really embarrassed Katniss out there."

"Hey, a moment ago you were agreeing with me!"

"I only said that for Katniss' benefit, and you know it!"

"Well maybe like Katniss instead of being angry with me you should be grateful!"

"Grateful?"

"That girl needed all of the help she could get! Mind, I'm still amazed that you managed to make her at least passable-"

"Well maybe that's what happens when you say things like romantic as dirt or compare her to a dead slug!"

Effie gasped.

"Haymitch! You didn't!"

Clearly the girl had no problem opening up to Cinna.

"Just who do you think you are? You're just a fashion designer, you're not a mentor! You have no experience of trying to prepare kids for the arena, to make sure they survive-"

"AND EXACTLY HOW MANY TRIBUTES HAVE YOU SAVED?"

It was as if I had been whacked across the face with a large sack of bricks. I could see Cinna instantly regretted what he said.

"Haymitch, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that!"

Maybe everyone expected me to get angry. Maybe everyone expected me to get violent, to tell Cinna to get out.

Instead I just nodded.

"You're right," I muttered, "You're right."

Cinna tried to apologise.

"Haymitch-"

Turning away from everyone, I slowly walked out of there. Going to the top of the building, I sat down, and looked out at the city.

How many have I actually saved? That answer was easy! 0. None. What Cinna said to me made me face what I have always tried to deny, that the reason I never had a victor wasn't because the tributes never received training like the careers, or that they didn't take up a job until after they were too old to be tributes, or because they were underfed, but it was because of me. That I was too impatient. Too unpleasant. Too prone to drink. But I always did my best to help the tributes! And I'm sure I helped the boy! And I definitely tried to help the girl!

Ok, I shouldn't have said she had the charm of a dead slug.

And maybe I shouldn't have said that she came across as moody and irritable every time she opened her mouth, which was true, but I only said that so she could improve herself!

And maybe I shouldn't have said that the boy's approach was to be likeable, implying that she wasn't.

And I definitely shouldn't have been drinking at all during our session.

I was no good at this. Well, it's not like I had anyone to teach me this mentor stuff! I had to work it out on my own, as best as I could! Sometimes I wonder if I should have let Mel volunteer in my place. I'm certain he would have been able to get through to the girl, have more patience with her than I did and certainly not get drunk while doing it! Maybe he could have won, and not the way I did, a way that didn't anger the Capitol. I couldn't help but wonder that perhaps he would have had better luck with all of the tributes compared to me. Maybe at least get one of them home. But then what if he didn't? What if he had no better luck than me? After all, Raybearta had nearly fifty years of tributes and couldn't get a single one home. What if he ended up becoming a drunkard like myself? Or a morphling addict? Or ended up losing his mind? Then there's the fact that his children would have been targeted for the games. And then there's the fact that he would have been sold into sexual slavery and forced to go through with it or everyone he loved would be at risk. No. No, I couldn't put my friend through all that. Even if it would have meant-

I could hear footsteps behind me. Judging from them, they sounded like high heels. And I only knew one person wore high heels like that in our little group.

"Oh Haymitch, you shouldn't take what Cinna said at heart!" Effie told me.

I took a sip from my flask.

"Why not? What Cinna said was right. I haven't saved a tribute ever, have I?"

I heard Effie sit next to me.

"Did you really call Katniss a dead slug?"

I turned to look at her.

"I said she had the charm of a dead slug. That really doesn't sound much better, does it?"

"No, it doesn't. But I won't say it was entirely your fault. I'm not condoning what you said or anything, but I know how…difficult Katniss can be."

"What happened to being one of the best tributes you ever had?"

"And she is! But that's not to say that she wasn't – challenging to work with."

I laughed at that. Challenging was putting it politely. Still though, I couldn't help but think about this girl, about how everyone who knows her seems to adore her, from the crowd of district 12 who honoured her when she volunteered, to the boy who seemed more concerned with her surviving than him, to the prep team who love her, the stylist who came to her aid, how the whole Capitol cheered for her, even without the star crossed lovers fiasco. She shoots an arrow at the Game Makers, and they reward her with the highest possible score! Even Effie, who found the girl to be just as frustrating as me, called her one of the best tributes she ever had! Am I missing something? I mean sure, everyone loved her old man, except it made sense why they liked him, he was a very likeable guy! Yet this girl was as likeable as, well, me! And you can already imagine how likeable I am! I thought about her old man, and how I wasn't the only one enchanted by him. That's not to say he didn't have skills, gifts even, but everyone back home acted like he could…what's the phrase I'm looking for? Walk on water? But not me. I saw him for what he really was, just another guy from the seam trying to make a living like the rest of us.

"Mind you," Said Effie, "She wasn't as bad as you at that age. At least she tried to make an effort. Eula told me how whenever she gave you an instruction, you did the exact opposite."

This surprised me.

"I wasn't aware you kept in contact with Eula."

"Of course. We have lunch every year, between games."

"How is she?" I couldn't help but ask.

"She's in good health. You know, you could always see how she is for yourself."

I turned to look away. No. I had no interest in seeing Eula, not after she abandoned me after saying that she would never. I downed the last drop of my flask.

"I need to get some fresh air," I said.

"You're already getting fresh air," Effie pointed out.

"Well then I need some exercise as well."

By exercise I meant a walk. Down to the nearest bar. I planted myself in front of the bartender, and asked for the least alcoholic drink he had.

Now came the hardest part of being a mentor, the part that I wasn't looking forward to, the part I was glad to give up when I stopped trying. Which child to keep alive? The boy, or the girl? I went through their individual skills. Well, the boy excels at hand to hand combat, and he's strong and good at wrestling. In close fight he would likely win, even if the injuries to his hands might put him at a disadvantage. But how well would that translate to using a weapon as opposed to your bare hands? He also excelled at camouflage, which was an important skill. The girl on the other hand was more of a long-range killer. A bow and arrow would put her on the same level as the careers, and her experience of hunting in the woods would mean she would have no trouble surviving. At least in a temperate, wooded environment. And that's the thing. The environments of the arena could vary. At least anything with trees would suit her. But if the arena was treeless like desert or ice then she would be screwed. And then there's the fact that she would be only exceptional in a fight if she had her hands on a bow and arrow. Oh sure there would be one at the cornucopia, but I told her to stay away from it. Therefore the only way she could get her hands on them were if she was nearby a dead tribute, likely a career, which would mean finding them dead would be less likely than a non-career. So on one hand I had a choice between one tribute who would be good and camouflaged and in close hand to hand combat, and another who would be exceptional but only in a specific environment with good luck.

Then I thought about the difference sponsors could make. The boy was handsome, likeable, funny, and he would certainly have the capitol's sympathy for being in love with a girl who was ultimately his competitor. Yes, he would certainly have favourites. But the girl on the other hand had seem to won the capitol audience over too, with her willingness to sacrifice herself for her sister, like the boy had been made unforgettable by Cinna, has the top score from individual sessions, and was the boy's centre of affection. Yes, I was certain I would have no problem getting sponsors with her.

I went back and forth between the two, even going by the most insignificant aspects, thinking it would give them an advantage or disadvantage. I didn't usually find it this difficult to decide which tribute to save. I know that's an awful thing to say, but in the past I had no problem deciding which tribute had the better chance of living. Here, I was stumped. Well, I do get along with the boy more than the girl-

No, no, no. I could never make the decision based on that. It should only ever be on which tribute had the better chance of living, not on how much I liked them. That was just callous, even for a sport where you had to choose who lived and who died, and you were completely stumped as to who to save. And it's not that I didn't like the girl – well, we certainly didn't get along, but she reminded me so much in different ways of her old man, of Ray, and, well, me. I couldn't condemn a girl to death just for being like me! And besides, if the girl died and the district were convinced that I didn't do all I could to save her, then I would likely be banned from the hob, and where would I get all my liquor then?

Hmm. That's a good point. Whenever before a seam tribute would die the most that would happen to me is that the family would want nothing to do with me. When a town tribute died the affected family would bar their services from me, which was more of a nuisance. But if the girl was to die, I could lose access to something I actually need, whereas if the boy was to die, then I would only be banned from the bakery, and to be honest bread hardly made up my daily diet!

No. I couldn't make a decision like that either, based on saving the tribute who would benefit me the most, no matter how much-

I felt a strong hand slap me on the back. Someone sat next to me.

"You seem down in the dumps, eh, Haymitch?"

I turned to looking into his grinning face. Brutus. One of the mentors for District 2. Ever since he became a victor. And I'm pretty sure he encouraged his tributes to specifically target district 12 and brutally murder them. I was sure it was because one of the tributes that I personally killed in my games was his older brother. See, it wasn't just for glory that career tributes volunteered for. It was also revenge in case they had a family member who was killed in a previous game. If I came from a career district and my brother was killed in one of the games then I would certainly volunteer.

"What do you want, Brutus?" I snarled.

"There's no need to be so grouchy, old man."

It was weird being called 'old man' by a guy who was only a year younger than me. Then again, I haven't aged well, compared to someone who looks in much better shape.

"I'm here to offer you a deal."

"And why do you think I would ever accept a deal from you?"

"I wish to offer your boy a chance to join the career pack."

An alliance. I was set against the tributes making any sort of alliance, even with each other. Sure, allies can be useful. I wouldn't be alive today if I didn't have an ally, but then you have to go through what happens when they die…No, it was better that they get through this alone. And I certainly wouldn't have wanted them to make an alliance with the careers. Survive or not, they would have become pariahs at home.

"Not the girl?"

"She's…. adequate, from what my tribute told me. I don't know what she did to impress the game makers, but from what I heard she's nothing special."

I had to suppress a grin. It seemed my plan of making my tributes appear mediocre worked, as the careers were far more likely to hunt those they considered a threat first, especially those who turned down their offer to join their pack. I heard that the boy from District 11 turned them down, so if he got through the bloodbath he would certainly be at the top of their list.

"But the boy, on the other hand, I'm told proved to be a great melee fighter. And good at camouflage too."

"And yet I don't recall being told that the pack ever approached him before."

"The circumstances have changed."

"…You mean how he expressed his love for his fellow tribute? And you really think someone like that will willingly help the pack kill her?"

"Oh come now, Haymitch, do you take me for one of the Capitol who buys into lovey dovey romance?"

Again, I had to stop myself from smiling, as Brutus had no idea that the boy genuinely had feelings for the girl.

"Besides, A little bird told me that she did not take too kindly to his confession. And if it is true, well, what motivation it would give to kill someone who spurned your love."

Even so, I highly doubt revenge was something that was going through the boy's mind.

"Also, how do you think the girl would be prepared if this boy who expressed his love for her would be ready to kill her?"

He finished his drink.

"Consider my offer, 12. Your tribute's life is at stake. Meet me back here at midnight if you're interested."

And he left me at the bar. Joining the careers would have been one of the last things I would ever suggest to the kids. Also if he joined a group that was intent on killing the girl, then it might damper the star-crossed lovers plan that their greatest chance of survival depended on.

However, Brutus didn't know that the boy really did have feelings for the girl, or at least overestimated his feelings for retaliation. And if he was part of the pack then he could misdirect them from the girl.

I checked my watch. Downing my drink at the bar, I decided I needed to speak with the boy about this first.


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

I knocked on the door.

"Boy, you still up?"

No response. I pressed my ear up against the door. No sign of any activity. I decided to open it. The boy wasn't in his room. So where could he be? I checked the dining room, but he wasn't there either. The only other place he could be was on the roof top. As I made my way there, I heard a door slam. That could have only been the girl. Had she been up as well? Had the boy and girl been on the rooftop together? Unable to sleep? Talking about tomorrow? If so, it didn't sound like it went well.

I found him on the rooftop. He was just standing there, looking out at the Capitol. Then he picked up a flower pot and threw it as hard as he could over the edge.

No no no no no no no!

I ran to the boy, knowing what he didn't. I tackled him to the ground before the pot had a chance to smash in his head. I heard it smash into a nearby wall. The boy looked at me.

"Fun fact," I panted, "If you throw something at the force field a bit too hard you may regret it."

It took me a while to catch my breath. Years of drinking had not been good for my health. I was still panting even after the boy helped me up.

After catching my breath, I asked, "Mind me asking what got you so worked up right now?"

"Nothing," Said the boy, "It's just…Katniss said something to me that really angered me."

So the girl was here.

"Haymitch, am I an idiot? For wanting to be more than just a piece in the games?"

I stared at the boy. Somehow I was more proud of him than I was before.

"No," I quietly told him, "No, you're not for thinking that."

I certainly wanted to be more than a piece in their games during my games.

"But Boy, trying to more than a piece is dangerous."

The boy laughed.

"They're already going to make my life Hell in the Arena. How more dangerous could they possibly make it for me?"

"I mean if you win."

"Well, there's a little chance of that happening."

The boy suddenly had that same look on his face when he accidentally let it slip that he had a crush on the girl.

"Don't say that!" I told him, "Don't even think that! You've got to stay alive, remember?"

"I know, and I'll do my best, but-"

"But nothing! You can't afford to think that like, cos the moment you don't think you have a chance, then you won't last as long!"

I found his defeatist attitude quite alarming, even though what I was going to ask him would affect his fate. I quickly changed the subject.

"So, the girl called you an idiot for wanting to prove that you are more than just a piece in the games?"

"She certainly made me feel that way," He told me sombrely.

I was somewhat disappointed, as I knew her old man, like me, like this boy here, if he was a tribute, would have wanted to prove he was more than a piece in their games as well. I imagine!

"Don't take it too personally," I told him, "She's spent her life trying to survive. Nobility in the face of death has probably been her least concern."

"Oh, but not for me, right? Because I'm townfolk? Because I've always had everything I needed and never had to scrape to survive?"

I wanted to change the subject. I was about to tell him about Brutus' offer, but there was something else I wanted to ask him but didn't get the chance to.

"Earlier today, you mentioned something about Katniss having a boyfriend."

Even though she denied it, but went red at the same time. I remember him telling me about some tall boy she hung around with, but I didn't think much of it at the time. I was thinking about what happened if she survived in the final eight, and the capitol did interviews for people she knew. On one hand, a love triangle would create debate, and even more interest, but on the other I really needed people to route for the boy and the girl, especially if the friend back home proved to be more attractive.

"Doesn't matter," The boy shrugged.

"Boy, I need you to tell me-"

"WHAT DOES IT MATTER? She didn't believe me! You heard everyone! 'No, your reaction was perfect!' 'After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?' Treating my personal feelings as if it was all just a strategy, as if it - they weren't real."

The boy was in tears. I had a feeling in other circumstances he would be holding them back more. I gave him what I hoped was a sympathetic look. I patted him on the arm.

"It's probably better this way," I told him, "I mean, do you really want Katniss to think that someone who has a crush on her would be in peril in the arena?"

"No. I guess not."

He chuckled.

"It's funny. I've always imagined Katniss' reaction to when I would finally pluck up the courage to tell her how I feel. I imagined all sorts of reactions. Somehow furious never entered my imagination."

I couldn't help but laugh too.

"Then again you've never imagined that you both would be thrown into the hunger games."

"No, strangely enough no."

We both laughed.

"Did you want to ask me something besides any potential rival I've got?"

I almost forgot!

"One of the mentors for District 2 approached me earlier. He wants you to join the career pack."

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Why? I mean, he did hear my confession of love to Katniss to all of Panem, and he thinks someone like me will be more than willing to kill her?"

"For one thing, he didn't believe your confession. Secondly, I don't know how, but he found out about Katniss's volatile reaction to your confession, and think you would want revenge. Also he thinks she won't suspect someone who expressed their love will be wanting to kill her."

"Well he's got it all wrong, doesn't he? For one thing, Katniss doesn't even believe I'm in love with her."

"Neither does he."

"So…do you want me to join the pack?"

"You know what will happen to your reputation if you do. But-"

"I'll do it."

"What?"

"If I can mislead them about Katniss, if I can keep her safe, then I'll do it."

"…Ok Boy. If that's what you want, I'll give Brutus your answer. But first you need to explain something to me. What do you see in her? I mean sure she's attractive, and she's this big hunter and all that, but from what I've seen, she hasn't been that nice to you. When you tried to compliment her the day after we got here, she acted as if you had insulted her. She clearly did not want to be around you, yet got upset at you when you wanted to be coached alone. And let's not forget how she reacted when you told everyone you had a crush on her, or how she just insulted what you wanted to do in the arena, so why are you so willing to protect someone who treats you like dirt?"

I know I was being given an easy solution here to my dilemma, but I knew boys at school who were so dedicated to their crushes even when said crushes treated them like crap. I just wanted to be sure that the boy wanted to protect her for the right reasons. The boy considered my question, then I saw the answer dawned on him.

"Because when she sings, the birds stop to listen."

I was stunned when he told me this. I knew that the girl had her old man's skin colour, hair and eye, and his hunting skills.

I had no idea she had his singing voice too. The moment the boy said this, I knew that I didn't need any further details.

"Ok," I told him, "Well then, I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

I turned away to go back to the bar. Stopping, I turned back to look at the boy.

"Peeta!"

I think this was the first time I've used his name since our first official day of mentoring.

"I-I'm sorry! About hitting you before."

Peeta seemed surprised.

"What? You mean back on the train? Haymitch, I know you only did that to make it seem like I was in a fight with another tribute!"

Is that what he thinks of me? As someone who has everything planned out?

"Right," I nodded, "Right."

I walked away. After giving Brutus Pe- the boy's answer, I returned to my quarters, and enjoyed the last drop of alcohol that I would be having for a while, as I needed my mind to be sharp for the next few weeks. I can celebrate afterwards, or drink to drown my sorrows. Probably both. And so, as I held up my last drink until the games were over, I vowed that I would do everything to keep the girl alive.

* * *

Sponsors' gifts came in two forms; money, or physical items that will prove useful to the tribute. Personally I preferred cash because then I could spend the money as I saw fit. At the morning of every start of the Hunger Games prospective sponsors would come in to sign up, and throughout the games would send their gifts. More sponsors may come throughout the games, rather through one off gifts or more would sign up every morning. Usually the desks for Districts 1, 2 and 4 would get the most sponsors. Other districts may get the occasional sponsor, but as far as I knew, no one showed up for district 12, even if I was at the desk. Effie always was out on duty. But now, for the first time ever, District 12 had the cream of the crop when it came to sponsors. The career districts were a close second, especially district 2. After them came District 11, but that might have mainly been because they had Thresh. Even the careers thought he was good enough to be in their pack. Some showed up for District 3, District 5 also. No one showed up for districts 6 to 10. I could see the envious glares from the career mentors and escorts. Much less so from the other district mentors. Perhaps they felt their chances were low, and that if anyone was to beat the careers, it might as well be 12.

Later we joined the game makers in the control room. Apparently it goes back to when they were first introduced. Each district's 'team', comprising of the mentors and escort, had a sound proofed booth, so that no one knew what each one was planning. In our booth, there were three screens and a virtual map. One screen showed the broadcast of the games. The other two were reserved for monitoring each tribute, and the map would show the nearby area that the tribute was in. Currently, all depicted the centre of the arena, the cornucopia. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the arena was indeed a temperate, wooded environment. A wry thought occurred to me that maybe it was designed specifically for the girl to win, or at least give her a fighting chance. But then I remembered how arenas were planned in advance. Now all she needed was a bow, but chances of that were slim, and –

No.

I noticed that within the cornucopia, resting on a pile of blankets, was a bow and sheath of arrows, just laying out there as if to tempt the girl. And already I could see that she was tempted to go after them.

No, Katniss, don't you dare.

Perhaps she felt that the only way she can win is with a bow and arrow. And while that's true, now was not the time to grab them. I still didn't know how to get them to her. Even with the generous offerings from sponsors, I checked that a bow and arrow was far too expensive, and that expense would only increase as the games went on. I could get her an arrow or two, but what good would that do her?

Then I noticed something else. Peeta, the boy, seemingly noticing what the girl was about to do, what she was tempted to do, caught her eye and shook his head. I was glad that someone among my tributes had sense! For a moment, I worried if I had agreed to save the wrong tribute.

The gong went.

"AND they're off!" Shouted one of the commentators.

The boy and the girl went straight towards the cornucopia. The boy I knew was part of the plan, but the girl? Even though I told her to go the opposite direction, even though I was sure she was no longer interested in the bow and arrows.

You know what, I take back what I said earlier. It's not my fault that the tributes die. They just didn't listen to me!

Well, most of them.

The girl at least had the sense to just go for one of the most outer piles. But even those were risky, as proven when the boy from District 9 went for the same backpack, and only let go because the girl from district 2 threw a knife in his back. I remember the boy and the girl telling me about her when I grilled them for information about their competition. And I remember them telling me that this girl at the knives station never missed the bullseye. The girl ran for it, and the District 2 chased after her. If she could make it for the woods, then she would be out of danger.

Come on come on come on come on!

The District 2 girl raised one of her knives and hurled it in the direction of the girl's head. My heart leapt in my rib cage.

Luckily though the girl had keen enough senses to hear the knife whistling towards her and raise the backpack she took behind her head, taking the blow. I let out a sigh of relief as she made it into the woods, out of harm's way for now.

Even though I knew she was safe at the moment, my heart kept beating. I was worried that I was going to die before either of them did, and who would help them then? Knowing that the girl was safe for now, I turned my attention towards the boy. He was right in the middle of the blood bath. I couldn't get a clear view of how he was doing. I think he let one tribute get to the supplies, only to be cruelly taken down by the District 2 boy's spear. Another tribute engaged in combat with him. The boy was able to hold his own, before his attacker was stabbed in the back by the District 4 boy. By then, nearly a dozen bodies lay sprawled and bloodied on the grassy floor, with only the careers remaining standing, including the boy, and the District 3 boy. I guess he must have gotten into the pack as well. They probably thought his intelligence, a general trait of District 3, would prove useful. I wasn't sure how at the moment, as there were hardly any devices in the arena. I didn't want to look at them. As bad as it was for anyone to look at a bunch of murdered kids, but also because I had seen so many of my own tributes in the same positions; limbs in awkward, unnatural angles, large gaping wounds with blood still pouring from them, if they weren't severed (even decapitation), and if the faces weren't destroyed beyond recognition they still showed the horror they experienced, eyes wide and staring into nothing, blood trickling out from their mouths. I had to know who was left, and they wouldn't announce the deaths until the end of the day. From what I saw, the dead included the girls from district 3 and 10, the boys from district 5 and 8, and both tributes from districts 6, 7 and 9. 10 gone. 14 remaining including my tributes and the pack. Aside from them that left the girls from district 5 and 8, the boy from 10, and both tributes from 11. I was glad that Chaff and Seeder's tributes had survived. If there was anyone I wanted to win if mine didn't make it, it was theirs. Even though I wouldn't want their tributes to kill mine. I went through what I knew of the remaining non-pack tributes. I knew virtually nothing about the girl from District 8. The boy and the girl reported nothing exceptional about her, but she may be appearing mediocre for the same reasons my tributes were told to (Then again, her score wasn't much, but I shouldn't rely too much on that). The same for the quiet boy from District 10. With his crippled foot he was lucky to survive the bloodbath, but he was unlikely to be a threat. The tribute from District 5 the girl had nicknamed 'foxface', which fitted her apparent sly and elusive nature. I remember the girl telling me she did well on the edible plants section, as well as her. This was surprising, given that District 5 was situated in a desert would have meant she would have had little opportunity to learn about foraging as the girl did in 12. That only left the District 11 tributes. The boy, call Thresh, big and strong, was likely to be a threat. The girl, Rue, on the other hand, I considered to be one of the least threatening. The girl told me she was really good at climbing (and what was likely what rewarded her a 7), but this would be more useful a skill to evade tributes and search for food rather than being used in any deadly way. It took a bit of effort to draw the information from the girl. I gathered the impression she didn't like talking about her. Was this because she reminded her so much of her sister? I doubt that she had it in her to kill anyone. Then again, I should never rule out the possibility of any tribute being a killer, even from the youngest ones, whose apparent innocence can be a disguise realised too late. Not that 12 or 13 year olds have ever won in the history of the games, but that didn't stop them from taking other tributes down with them. And who knows? I thought. The day may come when a 13 year old or even 12 win the games (14 was also considered an impossible age to win until Finnick Odair proved otherwise!).

Having now memorised who is left outside the career pack and the girl, I turned my attention to the boy.

"Thanks," He thank the District 4 tribute for aiding him, who grinned back.

"No problem."

He punched the boy so hard that he fell to the ground, before moving in for the kill.


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

"_Oo!_" One of the commentators squealed, "_The District 4 male tribute seemingly helped Peeta of District 12, only to sucker punch him!_"

"_Peeta really shouldn't have been so trusting! This is the Hunger Games, after all!_"

Before I tuned out what the commentators were saying, but now I heard every word. I can't believe how stupid I was! I thought to myself. Brutus never had any intention to bring Peeta into the career pack! It was all just a trick to kill one of my tributes and I fell for it! I led Peeta right into the trap! And right now, I couldn't help but watch helplessly as one of my tributes was about to get murdered by one from District 4, with the rest of the pack cheering him on. Huh. That's odd. Usually the careers would kill a tribute together, that's partly why they're called a pack, to ensure that one of them would get the kill count. Actually, not all of them were cheering. Cato, the boy from District 2, was just watching the intensely, as if wondering who would win this fight. Peeta tried to fight him off, but the four knocked his weapon out of his hand and stabbed him in the arm. The boy screamed. I felt that same anger I felt when the girl shoved him, wanting nothing more than to be in the arena, to kill the boy who was hurting him. But I couldn't. I was stuck here. All I could do was watch. Peeta tried to crawl away, and the rest of the careers laughed, except for Cato, his expression unchanging.

"Where are you going, Lover Boy?" The district 4 boy asked.

He stabbed him in the leg. Peeta screamed again. I went through the menu of items to see if there was anything that could help him. But there was nothing. Nothing that could be useful that I could afford.

"_Peeta is trying to make a getaway, but his opponent isn't going to let him get away. This could be it for Peeta Mellark!_"

The 4 bent down.

"Did you really think that you could be one of us? You are nothing!"

Peeta was still trying to claw himself away from his opponent. But then I realised something. He wasn't trying to get away. Peeta had seen something. Managing to grab a nearby knife he came back up and sliced through the ankle of the 4. Now it was his time to scream as he lost his balance, falling to the ground. Peeta then sliced through his arms, causing them to dangle uselessly from this body. The careers were no longer laughing.

"_And in a shocking turn of events,_" The commentator even sounded shocked, "_Peeta has turned the tables on his opponent, proving his resourcefulness by grabbing a nearby knife and slicing through the tendons of the ankle and arms! It now seems to be it for the male tribute of District 4!_"

Peeta managed to get up, looking down at his attacker, whose cockiness and confidence drained from his face, thinking that he was going up against prey only to find that he was the prey.

"Cato, guys, help me!"

Cato raised his sword just in case any of them tried to come to his rescue, but none of them did.

"Aqua!" He shouted to whom I guess was his fellow tribute from District 4, "Aqua, please!"

But she didn't come. After all, a pack's loyalty only went so far, even from those from the same district. After all, ultimately only of them could come out of this alive, and if one of them was about to die, then that was better for the rest of them in the long run. The 4 then looked up at Peeta.

"Please," He pleaded, "Please."

Peeta gripped the handle of his knife, as his face was filled with an expression of utmost loathing as he slashed across his opponent's neck. Blood poured from the wound, as the 4 struggled to breath, before falling forwards onto the ground.

"_Aand it looks like he's out!_"

I wish I could say I was sorry that the boy was dead. But I wasn't. Too many of my tributes had died at the hands of District 4. Not as many as District 1, or even 2, but enough. That's not to say that at least one tribute from every other district hadn't killed one of mine, but I could at least forgive them. To an extent. They were only trying to survive, in a sport where they had no choice but to participate in. But the careers were a different breed of tribute. They chose to be here, chose to be killers and one of them just tried to kill one of my tributes after helping him, after luring him into a false sense of security!

"_Well. I think I speak for everyone when I say Peeta has surprised us all with his skills with a knife!_"

"_He certainly has._"

Yes. He certainly did. It seemed the boy really had been holding out on me. Where did he learn to use a knife like that? That wasn't merely hacking and slashing, even for ordinary combat. The way he knew where to cut the tendons so that he could render his opponent's ankle and arms useless. But that kind of expert cutting I would never have expected from a baker, that was more akin to a–

A butcher.

That's right! His mom came from a butcher's family! But there would have been no need to pass her skills onto any of her sons, who would have no need to slaughter animals and prepare them for consumption. Wait….

If I'm not mistaken, in a merchant marriage at District 12, it was customary from the bride's family to give a dowry to the groom. This depended on the kind of service that family offered. If it was a baker's family, it would be a couple of loaves of bread. From an apothecary, a couple of bottles of medicine. But from a butcher, it would be a couple of livestock. That's why the butchers were the most sought after merchant family. After all, loaves could be used up. The same with medicine. But a pair of breeding livestock could keep you in meat indefinitely. So yes, when Cleeva married Graian she would have brought a couple of livestock with her, and these would be bred to bring more livestock and keep them in stock for good meat. Only slaughtered for special occasions though.

I was furious that he kept something like that from me. But then I thought about how it took the girl's arguing to even open up about his other skills, skills that he didn't think were worth mentioning. I then thought about how he seemed to accept death last night. Did he really think he didn't have a chance? Or was it because he wanted someone else to win?

Peeta then turned his attention towards the rest of the pack who were silent. Cato walked towards him. Peeta held up his knife, the good it would do him. He was only able to kill the 4 because he wasn't expecting it. It would be different against a boy as large as Cato, with his injured arm and leg.

"Well," Said Cato, "It looks like you're one of us."

Now I understood. Brutus did want Peeta to be on his team, but he probably thought that 6 was big enough (minus the one from 3). So Peeta had to prove himself by fighting one of the other careers, perhaps the weakest one. I could imagine that hints were dropped to the 4 that Peeta would be his replacement, goading him into killing him so he didn't have that chance.

Cato continued to walk towards Pe- towards the boy, but he continued to hold up his knife and tried to back away, only to fall on the ground, but he still held his knife up.

"Hey," Cato raised his hands, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to check your injuries. There, see?" He threw his weapon away, "Just put the knife down. Trust me."

Trust was clearly something the boy did not have for the careers, what with after what the boy from District 4 did to him. Eventually, however, he lowered his knife. Cato bent down and checked the wound on the leg.

"Seems to be a clean cut. Can you stand up?"

Cato offered his hand, and the boy took it, being pulled up. The boy could stand. Cato then looked at the arm.

"Same for the arm. Although it's bleeding badly. Wait here."

He went towards the Cornucopia. Rummaging through the bags, he came back with a roll of bandages, and wrapped it around the wounds on his arm and leg.

"_It seems that Peeta has been welcomed into an alliance between Districts 1 and 2, and the survivors of 3 and 4._"

The Capitol never officially acknowledged the career packs, even by the 74th, however that didn't stop the commentators from commenting whenever an obvious alliance had been made.

"_But how will this affect his relationship with Katniss?_"

"There. That should stop the bleeding," Said Cato after he had finished tending to the boy's wounds.

"I don't know," Said one of the careers, "I say we can't trust him. What if he tries to double cross us over his one true love?"

"What?" The boy laughed, "That? That was all an act just to garner the Capitol's sympathy!"

"Still though after saying all that stuff she must have wanted to become close with you."

"Do these-"

The boy held up his hands. Although they were now healed, the scars were still visible.

"Look like she wanted to become close? The moment I confessed my love to her to all of Panem, she broke my hands! At this point I want her to pay for what she did to me."

Cato shrugged.

"Well, you know what they say. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I guess that goes for boys as well. Well, stick with us, Peeta, and you'll get your revenge. Anything useful you'd like to tell us about her, about her skills?"

"No," The boy shook his head, "There's nothing special about her. Just another brainless girl from District 12. You saw for yourselves at training, am I right?"

"Still she can't be completely useless. What about that eleven she got, you know what she did to impress the game makers?"

"Beats me," The boy shrugged.

"What? You didn't at least discuss it with each other?"

"Well, no. I asked my mentor if we could be coached separately. We're competitors after all."

"Really? Cos from what I've seen of the two of you, you seemed pretty close," Said another career.

"Only because our mentor told us to stay together. Personally if it was up to me, I would have stayed as far away from her as possible."

With every word he said, everything he said to convince the careers of his trustworthiness (as trustworthy as allies could be), that he had no feelings for the girl, from saying it was just an act to preferring to be away from her, it was a blow to the star cross lovers plan I had made, until it was completely in tatters.

And then the canons went off. Eleven all together. The aircraft would arrive to collect the dead once they had left.

"Well then," Said Cato, clearly the alpha of this pack, "The others can't be too far. Let's stock up and go after them."

What one of the commentators said confirmed what I knew.

"_Well ladies and gentlemen it seems that Peeta has been playing with our feelings! He never cared for Katniss at all!_"

The pack walked towards the cornucopia to help themselves to the supplies. The boy remained standing, as if making sure they weren't watching them. Then, he looked behind and up at the sky, as if he thought that there would be cameras there watching him.

He smiled and winked.

"_But what's this? What could Peeta mean by that? Can it be? He's letting us know that everything he just said was a lie! Ladies and gentlemen, the star-crossed lovers has been saved! Peeta has surprised us once again!_"

And with that, the star-crossed lovers plot had been saved, assuring everyone watching that everything he just said wasn't true, was just a way to hide his true feelings and to mislead the pack about the girl.

"You coming, lover boy?" One of the careers called.

"I've got an injured leg, you know!" The boy called back.

An ingenuous move, not only concealing why he was trailing back but also assuring them that at the moment he was not the highest threat, that if things did go south for the careers they would likely turn on the most threatening. Which meant Cato should watch his back, as they would likely target him.

I turned my attention to the girl. She had made an ample amount of distance between her and the careers. She was going through the backpack she had recovered and its contents. There was one thin black sleeping bag, a pack of crackers, dried beef strips, a bottle of iodine, a box of wooden matches, a small coil of wire, those type of sunglasses workers use in district 11 to see in the dark (Course, I didn't think the girl knew what they were), and an empty 2 litre bottle of water. On the whole not that bad, but it could be better. But then, the outer piles tend to be the least rewarding. I was luckier in my games. When we first entered the arena, at first I was amazed at the sight of it, before putting a mask back on. I noticed how everyone else was still in a daze over the sight of the arena we were in, so I took my chance, running into the cornucopia, helping myself to a choice of supplies and weapons, a sword, an axe, and of course a knife, and getting out of there. Most of the other tributes still hadn't left their pedestals by the time I got away.

After making some distance, and while I was sure they were still busy fighting, I took a moment to go through my supplies. I was tempted to go for one of the biggest packs, but I reminded myself I had to take what I could carry, so I settled for one of the mediums. Inside was a sleeping bag, a 2 litre bottle of water, sun cream, insect repellent, a bottle of some kind of fizzy drink (I opened it and found it had a distinct smell. Not sure what to make of it), a vacuum flask filled with what looked and smelled like coffee, a flask of soup, a couple of protein bars and dried strips of beef, a waste bag, and a lunch box, inside was which a couple of large sandwiches (with a variety of fillings, chicken, tuna and tofu), and a salad. I seemed to be set for lunch and dinner! Even though this could keep me going throughout the day, I needed to start thinking about food and water for the rest of the games. I only ever tried hunting once before in the woods, and it did not go well. However, since then I felt like I learnt what I needed to know to survive in the training sessions.

I heard the canon fire. 18 dead. Nearly half of everyone gone (which sounded about right for the games). I wondered if any of my fellow 12s are among them. I'm sure to find out tonight when they broadcast the dead. I put my supplies back in and resumed my walk.

Along my journey I heard a noise behind me. I spun around and raised my sword and axe in front of my body, ready to fight. However, I saw that it was just a rabbit. The strange thing was though it was not an ordinary wild rabbit. This one was not only larger than most rabbits I had seen in the woods but had fluffy white fur. It looked like one of those you would see on display at the pet shop in town. I remember Larie when he was small pointing at one and saying he wanted one, but I firmly told him no, and that we were too poor to have pets. Besides, the last thing we needed was an extra mouth to feed. But he would not let the matter slide, and insisted that we buy it, but I pulled him away with all my strength all the way back home no matter how much he protested and screamed and cried.

"Why hello there," I couldn't help but say to the rabbit. The thought occurred to me that I shouldn't miss any opportunity for food, as after I had finished what I had I had no idea the next time food would be available. But it felt just wrong to kill something so friendly and innocent, even if it was was for survival.

The moment the rabbit looked at me, it started hopping towards me.

An alarm bell was ringing madly in my head, because that wasn't normal behaviour for a rabbit. Rabbits run when they see someone bigger than them spot them. Prey don't run towards a potential predator!


	11. Chapter 11

**I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

I wished I hadn't dropped my weapons! I went for my knife, but it was stuck in my belt.

Come on come on come on come on!

When the rabbit got close enough it leapt towards me, opening its mouth wide, aiming for my neck.

Fortunately I got my knife out and hurled it at the rabbit, hitting it in the eye.

It let out an unearthly scream as it hit me, then fell to the ground.

Bending down, I took a closer look at the rabbit. Placing my boot on it, I pulled out my knife, then used it to push the upper lip out of the way, so that I could examine the teeth better. These were unlike any teeth I had seen on any rabbit, wild or domestic. Long, shiny and sharp, like a pair of daggers. I thought of what Raybearta told me about how rabbits at least had their teeth to fight back, but nothing in nature could produce something like this. A Muttation. A Mutt, designed to look like a harmless, even friendly creature, that was really a violent killing machine. I could only imagine some of the other tributes, the younger ones or the girls (Not that I'm saying all girls like fluffy white things, or just exclusively to older girls!) spotting one of these, beckoning it to come over, only to have their jugular ripped out of them when they realised too late. I remember seeing that one of the tributes this year was a boy about Larie's age. It made me sick. I wondered if I should still add it to my food supply. Was mutt edible? I don't think anyone had tried before (Mainly because no one has ever had a chance to eat a mutt!). Even so, I shouldn't be too picky. After skinning the rabbit mutt (I felt much less guilty about doing so after discovering it was really a monster disguised as a cute, innocent thing), I cooked its body on a spit. I was in no hurry to eat it, though (As for one thing I wasn't sure if it was safe to eat). I would save it until I was completely out of food. Sticking the body into a bag I had, along with taking the fur (I was sure it would have some use. I wasn't completely sure what, though!), I moved on.

* * *

Watching the girl in the present, I noticed her examining the empty bottle of water, and I knew she was already thinking about where to find some. She was bound to have better luck getting her hands on some than I was!

* * *

Later in the day, I came across a stream. Checking my bottle, I found that it was half empty. I dipped it into the crystalline, sparkling water, and once it had reached the top, I took out the iodine to purify it. Even though it was the cleanest water I had ever seen, I couldn't be too careful. I heard a twig break. Not trusting anything that moved in this wood, I hid behind a tree. I readied my weapons. Peeking from behind, a saw a stag walk by. I noticed how the tips of its antlers appeared to sparkle. Probably to impale tributes. After surveying its surroundings for a moment, it moved on. I was about to take another gulp from my water bottle when I realised something. What kind of deer just passes a chance for a drink? I heard scuttling. Looking up, I saw a bunch of fluffy golden squirrels looking down at me. Watching me. Just sitting there on the branches. I didn't like it. I felt like I was surrounded by a pack of wolves, waiting for me to make a wrong move.

I stepped on a twig.

Run for it!

And running for it I did, ignoring the cries of squirrels behind me, chasing me. I didn't know how I was going to lose them, only that I had to keep running, and if I stopped, it would be it for me. I turned back to see how far they were only for one of them to leap at me. I knocked it away with my mace, trying to remember that despite the pitiful squeak it made it was a killer. Another came at me and I cut it in half with my axe. At this point I decided to stop running, and make my stand. I didn't know how I was supposed to lose them, and I was going to run out of energy running like this. At first the pack just stood there on the ground, then leapt at me. I screamed as I hacked and bashed at the flurry of golden fur scratching and biting me. It was only when they stopped attacking that I knew that I beat them. I caught my breath as I surveyed the ground covered in blood and golden flesh. Dead squirrel mutts were dotted everywhere. Some of them looked like they were squashed. Pieces of squirrels were also here. Checking my weapons, I noticed that a couple of squirrels were still stuck on my mace, their limbs twitching, with another on the blade of my axe. I also noticed that one of the squirrels was still alive, trying to get away. I grabbed its tail. The creature tried to scratch and bite me. It wasn't so bad when it was on its own. But I had to be sure of something. I undid the lid of my bottle.

"Bottom's up."

I stuck the mutt's head in the bottle. After making sure that it had taken a gulp, I pulled it back up. Moments later, the squirrel was making gasping sounds as if it was struggling to breathe, then stopped moving altogether, hanging lifelessly from its tail.

I knew it! The stream was poisoned! It was made to look wonderful, but its beauty concealed its deadly nature, just like the animals here! I swore, as I realised I had just contaminated my entire water supply. I could get by without food, but water was essential. At once I poured out the contents, but then thought about the remaining drops in the bottle. Deciding that the bottle was contaminated regardless, I dropped it, but then decided that it was best to keep with me and cover my tracks. After peeling off the squirrels from my mace and pulling off the other from my axe, I decided to get out of there, as the blood would likely attract others. I also tended to my injuries. Just scratches and bit marks, nothing serious, but even so I dabbed some iodine on the wounds, and put plasters on cuts. There had to be a clean source of water. Even mutts needed it. But if not the stream, where else? The only safe source of water I knew was at the cornucopia, and even though that was likely being guarded by the careers, it was not in my trajectory, so there was no chance of going back there. I also started wondering about food. Probably the only safe source of food was also at the cornucopia, so at once I took out the bag that contained the rabbit mutt I killed earlier and threw it out.

* * *

Food appeared to be no problem for the girl, who was already cutting off part of the bark of the pine tree and scraping a handful of the softer inner bark, and later setting up snares for rabbits. She later set camp, picking the tree had offered the most coverage, finding the strongest branch and using her belt to strap herself on in her sleeping bag, as I did. And then came the broadcast of the fallen tributes. While this was happening in the arena they showed replays of each of the slaughters to the viewers. I had no need nor desire to watch those again, not even the one for district 4. Just because I wasn't sorry he was dead, it didn't mean I took any pleasure in his death. Well okay, maybe a little, but not enough to re-watch it. I was reminded of the broadcast from my own games.

* * *

Throughout the day, between the initial broadcast and nightfall, I heard the canon go off three times. I wondered if they were killed by the career pack that was likely made, or if they fell victim to the mutts here or the environment. Unsurprisingly all the tributes from 1 and 2 survived. I also noted the two survivors from district 4, remembering them dining with the rest of the careers at lunch (This was before District 4 became official careers, if there was such a thing). After the death count for District 11 came tributes from my district: Leslie Herlihy and Mat Rayburn. I shouldn't have been surprised. I knew deep down that they didn't have a chance, and it's not like district 12 tributes haven't died in the bloodbath before, but still it was a shock to know that they were dead already. Tearful Leslie Herlihy, and angry Mat Rayburn. Were they killed in the bloodbath or died afterwards? Somehow I already knew the answer. Maysilee Donner had survived, though. I was actually glad she had, despite how much she had annoyed me. But I wondered how long she would survive.

* * *

The girl then went to sleep. The boy would be up for hours with the rest of the careers, hunting for any survivors. I was startled when I felt a soft hand on mine. I turned to look at Effie.

"I'll be on night shift. You go ahead and sleep."

"No, I'll be fine-"

"No. You need the rest more than me."

Touched by Effie's offer of help, particularly as it's not an escort's job, I nodded. Getting up, I could see that the teams for Districts 6, 7 and 9 had already left, leaving 9 remaining. They would have been interviewed as they exited over their thoughts on their tributes' losses. I went to my room, and as I slept, I thought back to my first night in the games.

* * *

Even though sleeping in the tree would protect me from other tributes, there were still other threats that could get me. Taking out my knife, I held it close as I tried to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Back in the present, I couldn't sleep. Grabbing a butter knife nearby, I was able to sleep easier. I know there was no need of it, but I've never been able to sleep without a knife since my first night in the games. Well okay, there were a few nights. Sleeping is easier when you have someone close to you.

* * *

Katniss was surrounded by the careers. Every one blocked her off as she was attack by Clove of District 2. They all laughed and cheered as she beat her up, throwing knives in Katniss' body, making her scream. I felt the same anger I felt whenever Peeta and Larie were hurt.

"Don't you touch her!" I shouted at Clove, "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!"

Running into the circle, I plunged my knife into the girl's laughing, cruel face. However, it impacted not the face, but the pillow next to mine. I laid straight on the bed. Even though I assured myself it was only a nightmare (Well, a dream really, as nightmares in my experience tend to come true), I couldn't get back to sleep. I checked the time. It was probably dawn now. Getting up, I rushed back into the control centre into my booth.

"You can sleep in a little longer if you want," Effie told me sleepily.

I shook my head.

"I'm awake now. How is she?"

"She's fine, Haymitch, she's been fine all night."

Even though I trusted the information Effie gave me, I still felt like checking the monitor anyway. Even though I couldn't see her in the foliage (Which was the point), the fact that her monitor was still active meant she was alive. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was all right. I also checked the boy's monitor. As expected, he was still up, hunting with the careers. This received the most attention on the broadcast to the viewers, although it would occasionally flash to the other tributes, including the girl, even though she couldn't be seen. Only one other tribute aside from her, the girl from District 11, slept in a tree, while the others slept on the ground. The district 11 boy slept in the field. One tribute was even stupid enough as to build a fire at this time of day. Just at the beginning of nightfall would have been one thing, but by now the careers had spent hours going through the woods for victims, and would likely see it. She may as well be jumping on the spot, waving her hands, screaming "come and get me"! And sure enough, I could see the pack running towards her location.

Wait a minute.

Oh no.

OH NO!

I had just noticed that the fire could be seen from the girl's position, meaning she was nearby, meaning that the careers could very well find the girl! I couldn't help but glare at the District 7 team for their tribute risking the life of mine. Sure, tributes were meant to kill each other, but not like this!

And sure enough, the pack surrounded the dozing tribute, waking her up. She pleaded them not to kill her, for all the good that would do. Cato stabbed her with his spear, and she screamed. Laughing, the careers congratulated themselves. One of them shouted "twelve down, eleven to go!", which got a round of appreciative hoots. I hated them. I hated the lot of them. I hoped that they got nothing more than gruesome deaths. Searching her still writhing body, finding nothing of use, they left her for dead, and to my horror, were walking in the girl's direction. Even worse they stopped just ten metres from the girl's tree. They become concerned over not hearing a cannon, and argue whether she's still alive. The boy breaks the argument, and volunteers to go check on her. Sure enough, she was still very much alive, but clearly in pain. Cato had done a poor job, rather than performing a clean kill he must not have hit a vital organ, or at least not well enough for an instant kill. She also appeared to be drowning in her own blood. The boy bent down. At first she looked terrified of him (not surprising given the circumstances), and seemed to try to back away, but was unable to. She appeared to be unable to speak, blood gushing out from her mouth.

"Shhh," The boy said, trying to comfort her, "shh."

He raised his hand over her forehead. She looked confused, and still frightened, but remained still. The boy stroked her forehead.

"It's gonna be alright. It's gonna be alright," He kept telling her.

Her eyes were focused on him, and she stopped writhing for a moment. Then the boy took out his knife and slit it across her throat. The blood poured from her neck. At first she looked startled, then started to lose conscious, with the boy continually given her assuring 'shhs'.

I don't think the audience understood what the boy just did, but I did. It may seemed like he was appearing nice before brutally murdering her, but I knew that what he did, slicing open her throat to allow the blood to escape and that the victim died of blood loss, was the most humane way to kill someone with a blade at least. I myself attempted to do so with one my victims in my own games, but I messed it up. I can still remember him gasping and clutching his throat.

The boy stayed with her until she closed her eyes, certain that she was dead this time. He went to rejoin the pack, the canon fired, signalling the tribute's death. The District 8 team had left, leaving 8 teams remaining. Usually after both district's tributes had died the reporters would come and interview the defeated team, but it was still early in the day. Commentary of the games started at 9am, and finished sometime after the death of the broadcasts, but highlights of the night would be among the first things they would show. They were bound to find them later though. The team was probably off to tell the other mentor (who was sleeping in) about the fate.

Moments after they left, heading back to their camp, the girl slipped out of the tree and landed into the grounded. Had I not known her location, something in me would have dropped. This was bound to cause a shock in the audience. They knew, or at least suspected, that the boy only joined up with the careers, but she didn't know. The girl cocked their head and gave a smile. When they rolled that footage in the morning, between the boy's wink and the girl's smile, many would be sure that they were in on it with each other, playing against the careers, which was far from the truth, as the girl had no idea about our plan. I wondered what was going through her head, after discovering that the boy was part of the careers. Actually, I didn't need to wonder, as I had a very good idea. The idea of anyone from District 12 joining up with the careers, I was sure she would feel was a form of betrayal, and was already contemplating how to kill him. If only there was some way to let her know that the boy only joined the careers in order to protect her. But there was no way I could contact her to let her know. I was worried she might just succeed in killing him, never knowing that all he ever wanted to do was to save her life.


	12. Chapter 12

**I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

The girl checked her snares she set up before she went to sleep, finding a rabbit. After removing the unnecessary appendages (hiding them under a pile of leaves), she used the recently dead tribute's still burning fire to cook it, and used one of the charred sticks to cover her orange back pack in black soot so that it wouldn't be so visible at night. I checked the boy's monitor, and saw that the pack was heading back to camp. I also checked the main monitor that showed the main broadcast of the games, and found that rather than the pack, the main focus was on the girl. At times it would flick back to the careers, as well as the other remaining tributes (The girl from District 11 was busy gathering breakfast in the trees, while the one from district 5 did the same from the ground. The boy from 11 helped himself to the wheat in the field that had become his refuge), but the girl held the most attention at the moment. After she was done cooking it, she ate it along the way in the opposite direction of the careers, stashing away the leftovers for later.

While she walked, the careers got down to sleep, having been up all night. The boy apologised to the girl from District 4 for killing her fellow tribute. I couldn't help but groan. No, Boy, don't show compassion! The District 4 girl made it plain to him that even though they came from the same district, there was nothing between them. This came as a surprise to the boy, who said that surely since they must have known each other, that she must feel something for his passing. She told him that before they volunteered, she had never seen him before, which came as a shock to the boy, as it would have done for me. District 4 was a much larger district than 12, so not everyone would have known each other, not even from sight. Before they settled, she gave him some extra advice, the same I would have done: "Try not to show that kind of compassion among the careers again."

While the girl walked, she had that emotionless mask on. My right fist tightened as I restrained myself from thumping the arm of my chair. Sure, showing no emotions might have aided her survival in District 12, but this was the Hunger Games! The audience didn't respond well to a seemingly emotionless tribute!

She coated her lips in what was undoubtedly rabbit grease, and I got the impression that she was trying not to pant. I knew why. She hadn't had any water for a day.

As time passed, I could tell the girl was in trouble. Although she did her best to conceal it, I could see that she was suffering from a headache and something about her tongue was bothering her. Probably a dry patch there. The sun hurt her eyes and she tried to put on the glasses she had in her backpack, thinking that these were sunglasses so I wasn't surprised when she took them off.

By afternoon, the careers had woken, and set off to hunt for more tributes. At first they tried to hunt for the District 11 boy in the field, but they found the wheat there was too high and they almost got lost, even panicky, so in the end they decided to leave him for now and focus on the other tributes, with the girl as their highest priority.

By late afternoon, the girl came across a bunch of berries, and was about to eat them before she stopped. Most likely she was thinking whether they were poisonous, as if they were a berry she had never seen before and not liking the blood red juice. Thinking it was best to be careful, she threw them away, but clearly with great reluctance. Even so, better safe than dead. She was bound to find some non-poisonous fruit, though, unlike myself, who refused to take any of the fruit in my arena, no matter how luscious it was, no matter how thirsty I was, no matter how desperate for water I was!

I looked out for other supplies of water, and even though there were plenty of bodies, I didn't trust any of them, especially if any nearby mutt didn't take a drink from them. I looked out for any mutt, making sure that I was hidden, seeing where they would go for water, but if they had a water supply, then they weren't showing it. I had already consumed all the liquids I started off with (aside from the fizzy drink), and I was down to protein bars and beef strips, but I was going to have to ration these out, only having one at a time during meal times, and possibly in between if my hunger became too unbearable. Eventually, I chanced the fizzy drink. It was little too sweet for my liking, but tributes couldn't be choosers, so I drank this as I continued along my way. At least it quenched my thirst. Afterwards, I felt a feeling of re-invigoration, as if I could do anything, even take on the careers! All ten of them! Okay, maybe not all ten of them, and definitely not at once. Whatever I drank, it made me more focused, and I felt more energy than I felt before. I probably made twice as many steps as I did before taking it! Even at night time, when they broadcasted the deaths of the day (I heard the canon go off twice earlier today. There were no deaths from any of the careers, or Maysilee. I was sure the careers must have been responsible), I still felt like going. Eventually, fatigue started to set in, so I decided that I needed to sleep. Unfortunately, even though I felt tired I could not get to sleep, between what I had drank still going through my body and the fear of a mutt ready to pounce on me. I could have worn myself out by continuing to walk, but I couldn't risk making any sound, so all I could do was remain still and hope that I would eventually get to sleep, but as the hours passed and I was still awake, no matter how much I tried to remain still and relax (Which was impossible to do given that I was wary of death at every corner), or keep my eyes shut, I started to panic that I would never get to sleep, and how much the lack of it will affect me the next day.

The next day, the side effects of what it was I drank were kicking in. Not only did I feel more dehydrated than ever, but the lack of sleep I got had made me jittery, any noise I heard alarmed me. I needed water. Fast. But I still had no idea as to where to find a clean source. I decided to climb a tree to see one, even though I wasn't in the best condition, but what choice did I have? After climbing a tree, I got a better view of the arena, but still no sign of any clean water.

"Why don't you send her a bottle?"

I was startled, breaking out of me reminiscing. I turned to Effie.

"Why don't we send her a bottle of water? We have enough."

Effie had noticed what was obvious to me about the girl. I checked the menu. Yes, we certainly have enough water. Even plenty of money to buy numerous bottles. So why hadn't I sent any? Because I would only use these resources when completely necessary. I'm sure you're wondering, but wasn't that time necessary? Even though the girl didn't know it, she was a day away from a pond that should give her all the water she needed. You may think me cruel, withholding water for all that time, but there was no telling when she would be near water in the future, and I didn't want her to be in a situation where she was dying of thirst and I couldn't send her water because I had already used it up. Besides, I went for two days without water in my games. If I can make it, and if she's anything like me, then so can she. It was along these lines that I replied to Effie.

The girl was taking more breaks than usual. She even climbed a tree to see any sign of water, despite her shaky state, as I did, but just like me was unsuccessful. She was stumbling over her own feet when she decided to call it a day. I checked on the boy. The careers had decided to camp in the woods rather than return to their camp. He was safe with them, and had plenty of food and water, for now. But the girl was thirsty. After the broadcast, and they went to sleep, I decided to go to my room before Effie could heckle me.

"I'll wake you to let you know when she's died of thirst."

* * *

"Water. Water," Katniss said hoarsely.

She was thirsty. So thirsty. So thirsty in fact that she started to dry up, til the point she was a mummified corpse. The canon went off signalling her death.

I gasped as I woke up and my eyes snapped open. It took me a while to get back to sleep.

By next morning however the girl had not shrivelled into a dry corpse, but she wasn't doing well. She fell from the tree rather than jumping, and it took her several minutes to assemble her gear. Leaning back against the tree, stroking her tongue with her finger. I could tell she was trying to come up with a plan to find water, having no idea how close she was to it. Then I noticed a flash of anger across her face, and I had a feeling what had occurred to her.

"Water!" She shouted as loud as she could.

Yes, she's just realised that I could have sent her water, wondering why I had not done so. Effie looked at me.

"She's asking for water."

"She doesn't need it."

"But she doesn't know that!"

No, she doesn't. I was wondering what she must think of me, the reason why no parachute had come down with a fresh bottle of water. Did she think she had no sponsors? Did she believe that the boy's apparent betrayal had driven them all away? No, even if that was the case, she must have known that there was at least one sponsor who wanted to give her water. She knew that the only reason she was not getting any was because I was not releasing it. Did she truly believe that I hated her that much? I know that we didn't exactly get along, but surely she didn't believe that I would let her die! She knew that if I mistreated her, then I wouldn't be allowed in the hob, unable to gain access to the liquor I know she knew I desperately needed. Did she believe that I was punishing her, for all the times she drove me crazy? Did she think I was too drunk to care? She placed her hands over her face, and from the way she shook even though no tears came (probably because she was too dehydrated to create them), I could tell she was crying. If only there was some way to let her know. Let her know that she's close to water, that I'm not doing any of this to hurt her! But how? Then she stopped shaking. She lowered her hands, and I could see realisation on her face.

Yes, she's realised the only reason I haven't sent any water is because she's almost found it.

With greater determination, she continued. But she had to use a branch as a walking stick. With the state she was in, any tribute could take her down, even the District 11 girl. But all the tributes were too far away from her. Which in general should be a good thing, but a part of me actually wished one of them was nearby. Not the careers, but someone else, just so that I could have a reason for sending her water now, just to end her suffering!

If her state wasn't obvious to the audience before, it was now, as could be guessed by Claudius Templesmith commenting on it, wondering why her mentor hadn't sent her any water, even when she cried for it, joking that it must be because I was too drunk to notice! I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps District 12 thought the same. That her mother and sister must think the same, not knowing that I was doing everything to protect her.

"_Katniss doesn't know it,_" He continued, "_But if she continues walking in the direction she's in she should be at a pond this afternoon that will give her all water that she needs!_"

A map appeared on the screen, showing the part of the arena between the girl and the pond, with a red dotted line showing that if she continued her way she would get to the pond.

Yes, thank you for reminding me, Templesmith!

By afternoon, her legs were shaking. I could tell that she kept forgetting what exactly it was that she was doing. She was stumbling repeatedly.

"_Things aren't looking good for the female tribute of District 12," _Templesmith continued, "_Will she make it to the pond before she collapses?"_

"She's dying, Haymitch!" Effie screamed at me, making me glad that our booth was sound proofed.

"She can make it," I told her, "I know she can."

Even though I wasn't so sure myself.

You're almost there, sweetheart! Almost! Just a few more metres-

Her walking stick slid out from under her, and she tumbled to the ground. She was unable to get up this time. Her eyes closed.

"No!"

I made a mistake. I made a terrible mistake. I expected too much from her! I promised to do whatever I could to keep her alive and my cautiousness has probably just killed her!

"Haymitch, if you don't send her some water, I will!" Effie hissed at me through gritted teeth.

She knew that was an empty threat. She knew that the rules forbid an escort to do anything without the mentor's permission. As I couldn't help but stare at the girl's fallen form, I nodded.

"Do it," I muttered.

Effie brought up the screen to look for a bottle of water. All that suffering for nothing! I couldn't help but think. And just think! She was so close to the pond, too! If only she held up a little longer, or at least hadn't lost her grip on her walking stick, or that it slid from her! I couldn't but think about just how pitiful she looked now, probably embracing death, stroking the ground, playing with the mud.

Wait.

"WAIT!"

Effie was just about to send the bottle when she was startled by my outburst.

"Just wait a moment!"

Effie looked at me.

"Please. Trust me!"

Even though we have rarely got along, Effie trusted my judgement.

"One minute. And then we send it. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Although hopefully she won't need a minute.

The girl continued to make swirling patterns in the mud.

Come on, Sweetheart! Work it out! If there's mud, then there's water.

Her eyes snapped open. She digged into the earth, as if making sure it was mud. Crawling along the ground, she fell into the pond. She still had enough sense to purify the water in her flask rather than drink it directly. After drinking 4 litres of water, she filled the bottle again, and retired in a tree while she ate rabbit and had a cracker along with a sip of water.

It was night time again. Both of my tributes were all right. For now at least. Peeta with his food and water, and the girl with hers. I thought I would sleep better tonight. My only concern was that there had been no deaths today. When that happened, the game makers would do something to shake things up, but that's a worry for another day.

* * *

I was walking through the woods, away from the snow-capped mountain. Suddenly it erupted. The lava that spouted would likely kill many of the other tributes, including the careers.

Wait.

Peeta is among the careers!

I ran towards the mountain, hoping to save him. Sure enough, I found him clinging to the edge of the volcano, threatening to fall in.

"Haymitch!" He called to me.

I ran forward to save him.

"Haymitch!"

I now turned to someone else threatening to fall in. It was Katniss.

"Haymitch, save her!"

"Haymitch, save him!"

Each one was begging me to save the other, but I didn't know who to save. I wanted to save both of them, but there was only enough time to save one of them. Who do I save? Who do I save?

"Remember your promise, Mitch!"

I turned around, see floating afar and above an old friend.

"Mel."

That's right. I did promise to save the girl. I ran to her, catching her arm before she had a chance to fall. Peeta however lost his grip, screaming as he fell into the lava below. The canon fired.

"You let him die!"

Katniss was in tears.

"I'm sorry, Katniss! I promised to protect you, no matter what. I'm so, so sorry-"

She let out an unearthly scream, attacking me, scratching me. She turned into a giant golden squirrel, and I tried to fight her off amid the scratches and bites. I felt a hand grab me by the shoulder and turn me around. By instinct I grabbed the person by the throat and held my knife at it.

It took me a moment to realise that this didn't look like a tribute. They were too old, and were clearly capitol. After a moment I realised who I had grabbed.

Effie.

I backed away back on my bed, dropping the knife. She was crying, shaking.

"Effie, I'm so sorry-"

I gave my hand but she backed away. I too was shaking, out of shame. Capitol citizens were as fragile as children, even if they enjoyed watching our deaths. I'm not talking about the peacekeepers or officials. Just the regular civilian. I gave her a moment to calm down, to get a grip of herself, as she stood up.

"Effie, you mustn't wake me."

It felt so awful to say, as if I was blaming her for being attacked, when it was my own fault.

"I'll remember that in future," She told me calmly.

I let a minute passed.

"Is there a reason you woke me?"

I could see that Effie suddenly remembered.

"Yes! It was to let you know that the arena's on fire!"


	13. Chapter 13

**I do not own 'The Hunger Games' or anything related.**

* * *

Me and Effie rushed back to the control room. The Arena wasn't on fire, but it might as well have been. Huge swathes of land were burning, and it was spreading to where the tributes were. I understood its intent. All of the tributes were spread out, and this was meant to round them back towards each other. I watched both of my tributes flee from the approaching inferno. And if that wasn't bad enough then came the fireballs and the pillars of fire! Once the fire died down, the boy was safe, and so was the girl, but she had been hit on the calf by one of the fireballs. She made it to a pool, though, and doused her hands in it. The calf was another story. Bright red, covered with blisters, the burn was the size of a hand. The girl almost fainted at the sight of it. She was surprisingly squeamish for a daughter of a healer. I would have thought she would have been used to burns, from the patients brought to Pheena whenever they suffered accidents from the mines, and the doctor couldn't do anything. Nevertheless, she did her best to hide her reaction. After tending to her calf, she rested, taking water from the pool and eating some of her supplies as well as nearby resources. Eventually, however, the careers tracked her down, and she was off. She took refuge in a tree. A couple of the careers tried to go after her, but were unable to. The District 1 girl tried to shoot her with her bow and arrows, but she missed. The careers then discussed what to do about the girl when the boy said they'll deal with her in the morning.

I then noticed that the girl from District 11 was nearby, in a neighbouring tree, obscured from the careers but not from the girl. She was pointing at something above her head, and the girl saw that she was pointing to a tracker jacker nest. I realised what she was suggesting. That she could drop it on the careers. The best way to do it would be to saw off the branch, and she can do that with her knife, but can her burnt hands manage the task? She would also need to get out of there as fast as she could, which she couldn't do with the state her calf was currently in. I checked the menu, and found a pot of medicine. It was somewhat expensive, but it was necessary. I decided to send it during the anthem, to conceal my actions from the careers. The girl was already sawing at the branch during the anthem too, realising that this was the best time to do it, and I could see that the way the blisters burst on her right hand that I knew I made the right choice. I knew that by helping her drop the tracker jacker nest on the careers that I was risking the boy's life. But then I had already condemned him to death when I chose to save the girl. When the anthem ended, she noticed the parachute, and opened the package, realising that it was medicine.

"Oh, Haymitch," I heard her whisper, "Thank you."

I couldn't help but smile.

"You're welcome, Sweetheart."

"See, you do care after all!" Effie told me.

"Of course I care!" I replied, "It'd be nice to have a tribute become a victor for once!"

Effie smiled. I could tell she knew I didn't mean that. Something had snapped between us when I attacked her, but it was nice we were still able to tease and joke like this. After she applied the medicine to her burnt wounds, the girl settled for sleep, as did the careers. As I got up to return to my room, I was surprised to find Effie joining me.

"Aren't you going to stay to keep an eye on the girl?" I asked.

"No need. Peeta's already doing that."

What? Checking the monitors, I could see that whereas the careers had gone to sleep along with the girl, the boy was wide awake, keeping an eye on her. Oh you poor love sick fool! Of course, that kind of foolness is what I was counting on to keep giving us sponsors. If only the girl knew how so hopelessly in love with her he was. But then, maybe it was for the best that she never knew. Better not to miss a traitor than to mourn a boy who only wanted to do everything he could to protect her.

"Why do you sleep with a knife, Haymitch?" Effie asked me.

I was startled by the question.

"You're not in the arena anymore, there's no risk of muttations after you."

That's right. People wouldn't have thought it, but there were only a handful of years between us. Effie would have been among those who would have watched the 50th hunger games. Would have known that I nearly always slept with a knife. I was surprised she still remembered that little detail. I wondered. Who did she route for in the games? Did she enjoy the fights, get sucked into the drama? Was she upset when her favourite died? Was her favourite killed by me? I've never asked any of those questions. I try not to think of my experiences in the games. She only ever brought it up twice. Once when trying to encourage me of the chance of another victor from District 12. The other time was earlier, when she first started with us.

"You know, I thought you were rather clever. The way you won the games."

I stopped in my tracks and I turned to her.

"Don't. Don't ever compliment my victory in the games again. Don't even bring up the 50th games again."

Effie was surprised at my reaction.

"Why? I was only trying to-"

"Yes I know what you were trying to do, but if you ever bring it up again you can forget working with me, understand?"

Effie still looked confused, even angry, but eventually she nodded.

Yes, the way I won the games was definitely clever. Too clever. Too clever for my own good. I know Effie was only trying to be nice. And she wouldn't have known why I reacted the way I did. It was never reported who was responsible, but pretty much everyone knew who was responsible. Me.

Had I known the consequences of what I had done, I wouldn't have dared to do it in the first place. I would have rather died.

In the present, I shrugged.

"I just can't sleep without one," I told her.

"Oh, I see," A shrewd smile appeared on Effie's face, "It's your Mr Floppy Ears, isn't it?"

"My what?"

"When I was a little girl, I couldn't sleep without my stuffed bunny Mr Floppy Ears with me. To tell you the truth," She blushed, "I still couldn't sleep without him until I was fourteen."

I scowled.

"I wouldn't know. Stuffed animals aren't exactly a common commodity in District 12."

Effie's smile vanished. I know she was only trying to make conversation, but the way she talked about as if it was normal for a child to have a stuffed animal stung me. It was a reminder that even though we were on the same team, she was Capitol, and I was District 12. She grew up without any lack of need or want whereas I had to struggle for 16 years for even the most basic needs.

"Night," I reply.

"Night."

* * *

After having another nightmare of the careers torturing and killing Katniss, but this time Peeta being helpless to watch as he was next, I returned to the control room. The boy had fallen asleep at the end, while the girl was busy sawing off the branch with the tracker jacker nest. A few jackers had stung her, and I knew that she had been injected with enough venom to give her frightening hallucinations, even unconsciousness, but once the nest fell down and burst it would target the careers. "To the lake! To the lake!" A couple of them cried. Most were able to run for it, but the District 4 and 1 girls were not so lucky. I was glad, especially the 1, who had tried to kill my tribute!

The girl got down and made a run for it.

No no no, Sweetheart, get the bow and arrows, the bow and arrows! I know it was risky, but the bow and arrows were the only way to assure her survival. However, she had already left for the pool, and I despaired that she missed her one chance to survive. She may have been able to escape the careers this long, but she can't do it forever. Then she stopped, as if she had just realised something, and headed back to the direction of the nest. Yes! She just realised that she needs to get the bow and arrows!

When she got back, and the canon fired, the District 1 girl was unrecognisable, her features eradicated, her limbs three times their normal size. Even though I took pleasure in her dying, I took no pleasure in her death. The girl managed to break the bow free from her hands, and rolled her over on her back to get to the sheath. She suddenly staggered back, as if she saw something terrifying, and that's when I knew the hallucinations had begun. Hearing the hovercraft come, she flung herself over the District 1 girl's body as if to protect her, but really because she needed to get the sheath. However, the craft only came for the District 4 girl first, and the girl was able to get the sheath. She drew her bow, and the boy appeared, demanding to know what she was still doing here, screaming at her to run. The District 2 boy came crashing through. The boy again told her to run, and she did, while the boy fought the District 2 tribute. My focus should have remained on the girl, but instead I watched the boy's monitor. He held his own pretty well for someone who only had a couple weeks of training against someone who had been trained all his life, but that didn't stop him from getting slashed on the leg, but he did manage to escape and hide himself from the district 2. When that happened, I turned my attention to the girl, to find that she had already collapsed from the tracker jacker venom coursing through her body. I've only ever heard of the effects of the venom, thankfully never experiencing it myself. Mind you, I did have a similar experience in my own games.

* * *

It was after I had climbed a tree, to get a better view of the landscape, to find a clean source of water. A butterfly landed on my hand. I was admiring its patterns when I suddenly remembered that ever animal in this arena no matter how beautiful was a killing machine. I froze, trying to decide how to get rid of the thing when I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I screamed as I let go of the tree, crashing through several branches before hitting the forest floor. I didn't care for any injuries I had received from the fall as I was too preoccupied with my hand. It was as if it was on fire. I knew that I shouldn't be screaming but I couldn't help it. I checked my backpack for anything useful but there was nothing! I just had to bear with the pain, to let the venom pass through my body. Eventually I could feel the pain lessening. I felt tired. So tired. Some bell went in my head warning this wasn't natural tiredness, but I didn't care. I collapsed on the ground. A voice in my head kept screaming at me to stay awake, but I felt so relaxed that I couldn't help but close my eyes.

* * *

I was in District 12, but it was completely empty. Where was everyone? I checked my home, but my family weren't there. Eventually I found a crowd.

"Good riddance to him. He was nothing but trouble," One of them muttered to another.

"Yeah," Said another, "District 12 is better off without him."

It sounded like someone had died, but whoever it was sounded like they were pretty unpopular. I got through the crowd to see the coffin. What confused me was that everyone I knew and cared about was in front of it. Ma, Larie, Rachelle, Mel. All of them crying profusely. Who could have possibly died to make all of my loved ones grieve this much, someone who the rest of the district had no love for?

I looked into the coffin, and saw a 16-year-old boy who looked like me. Who looked exactly like me. But it couldn't be me. I was right here! I wasn't dead!

"Haymitch!" Larie cried, "What am I supposed to do without you, Haymitch?"

"Oh Haymitch!" My Ma cried, "If only I wasn't so angry with you for all these years! If only I had forgiven you sooner!"

"Haymitch!" Rachelle cried, "HAYMITCH!"

"It's all my fault," Mel sobbed, "If only I volunteered in his place, then Mitch would still be alive!"

This was going too far, as I refused to let Mel feel responsible for my death.

"Mel! MEL, I'm not dead! I'M NOT DEAD!"

I shouted at him, I even punched him, but he continued to ignore me. I tried to get anyone's attention, but I might as well have been…

"That's not me lying in the coffin! That's not me! Because I'm not dead!"

The coffin was being lowered into the ground, and already was being buried.

"No!"

I jumped into the grave, clawed off the coffin lid and tried to shake me awake, but I was unresponsive.

"Come on, Haymitch, you're not dead! You're not dead! You can't be dead! I refuse to let you be dead! Can't you hear them? Can't you feel their tears?"

I could see my eyes start to twitch.

"wake up!"

Wake up!

OPEN YOUR EYES!

My eyes snapped open. I was still in the arena. It was night time as the rain poured on me.

Rain! Water!

I instantly rolled on my back, and tried to spit out any rain water that I must have swallowed.

Wait. How long had it been raining for? With the amount I must have accidentally drank I should be dead by now. Sure enough, I could see the golden squirrels and other mutts come out of their homes to open their mouths and let the rain water fall into their mouths.

The rain water. The rain water is safe to drink! That's the clean source!

With all of my remaining strength and will, I took out all of my containers to collect the water, aside from the 2 litre bottle, which I was sure was still contaminated with the poisoned water I poured in earlier, but I had more than enough containers to make up for it. I squeezed the drops of iodine necessary for decontamination. Even though during the wait for the purification I tended to any injuries I received from my fall earlier, the time waiting was excruciating, but once it had passed I drank, refilled, purified, waited, and drank again. By the time the rain had stopped I had had my fill and my numerous containers filled with water. Placing them back in my backpack I stood up. I looked up at the sky. I felt a new sense of determination to live. Raybearta had questioned me as to whether I had a good reason to survive. For them. I would live for them. For my younger brother, who would be lost without me. For my mother, whom I still needed to make up for the time we lost. For my girl, who would be heartbroken over my death. And for my best friend, who I loved as much as a brother, who would only end up blaming himself for my death.


End file.
